Just a Glimpse
by ke0212
Summary: In this AU story, Martin discovers that things are not as they seem. Buffalo Pictures owns Doc Martin; I'm just playing with it
1. Chapter 1

Martin woke with a sigh of contentment. Last night, after months of ghastly therapy, separately and together, he and Louisa had recommitted themselves to each other in tenderly romantic lovemaking. He felt healed and full of love for her, more than he had ever felt before, if that were possible. He told himself that this feeling was just the result of the hormones oxytocin and vasopressin that his body had released while they were making love, but he didn't care. He stretched and reached out to enfold her in an early morning embrace, but she wasn't there. Only slightly disappointed, he accepted that she was probably up with James, who was still an occasional early riser. Louisa, being the wonderful caring mother that he always knew she would be, and also wanting to let him sleep a little longer after his exertions the night before, had probably taken James downstairs for an early breakfast.

As the haze of sleep lifted further and the memories faded into the back of his mind, he noticed that the usual early morning cacophony of seagulls was missing. In its place was the sound of honking horns and revving engines. What could possibly be going on to make that kind of racket up here on the sleepier side of the village, at half six in the morning no less! He lay there for a moment thinking the clamour would stop. When it didn't he scrambled from the bed to the window and angrily threw the curtains aside ready to hurl epithets at the idiots responsible. The scene that greeted his eyes caused him to step back a moment and shake himself. Obviously he was still muddled by sleep. When he opened his eyes again, the same view greeted his eyes. He saw not Portwenn's quiet harbour but the park across the street from his old flat in Kensington.

Confused, he rubbed his eyes and took another look. Yes he was definitely in London... Odd... Did they come down to London to celebrate and he had just forgotten? That must be it, but it was very unlike him to forget something like that. "Louisa" he bellowed. When he heard no response, he stomped through the bedroom door and into the lounge. "Louisa?" he cried again. No response. He checked the kitchen and the spare room where they would have placed James' travel cot. There was no sign of either of them, or their things. He must have come down to London by himself and dreamt the previous night's activities. Disappointed, he thought, "_Unfortunate. It was all too good to be true I guess._" He wracked his brain trying to remember why he had come to London. He must have come for a reason; it was frightening that he couldn't remember.

He searched for his bag. He would have any appointments written in his diary; that should jog his memory. He went into the spare room where his desk had always been and there was his diary sitting open. He looked on the schedule where several surgical procedures were listed. That didn't make sense. He flipped through several more pages before realising that this was his diary from five years ago, from the day he had developed his haemophobia. He remembered meeting with one of that morning's patients the previous night, a Mrs. Smithson. Her family was particularly concerned with her prognosis and was clinging to her as he left her room. He had met with them again before prepping for the procedure. He remembered feeling somewhat disconcerted by their emotional agitation. He knew now that, in fact, their heightened concern for her was the genesis of his haemophobia.

As he thought about that day, he felt a jolt course through his body as it dawned on him that he shouldn't be in his old flat. Hadn't he sold it to pay off his father for Joan's farm? He walked slowly through the lounge to the entry way and opened the door to find the daily paper where it was always placed early in the morning. He opened it up. Tuesday, August 12, 2003. He stepped into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator which was filled with the healthy fruit and vegetables that he had preferred when he was living in London. He slowly went back to the study, stopping to notice that nothing in the lounge had changed from his surgical days. He studied his diary again and the notes lying on his desk.

Was it possible that he was still in London, still a surgeon doing the one thing he was ever any good at. That must be it! His time in Portwenn must have been a very bad dream. Or was this a dream and he would soon awaken in his bed in Portwenn. He shook himself, then walked into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. He was definitely awake and the visage that stared back at him in the mirror was his younger self. He leaned over the sink, his hands resting on the sides and felt the relief wash over him. He allowed himself a small smile as he thought that yes he was in his old London flat; he was still a vascular specialist and still the head of a team of registrars, charged with setting them straight as they trained for surgical careers. His time in Portwenn _was_ just a very bad dream, and now the nightmare was over. Thank God!

He went back into his study to review his notes for the day so he could visualise the procedures while he showered and dressed, part of his normal morning routine. But then, an image of Louisa and James floated before him. If it was all a dream, then they didn't exist, were not a part of his life. He dropped into his desk chair and buried his face in his hands. His life in Portwenn had seemed so real. He should be glad that it was just a dream and that he was still working in London. He groaned aloud. Deep down he really wanted that life with Louisa as well. Was it possible that his dream was telling him that it was time to look beyond surgery, to at least consider finding someone with whom he could share his life? He considered it briefly, then rejected the idea as preposterous. "Humph", he grunted under his breath, "Unlikely." There was no sense in pining after what wasn't meant to be. He straightened himself up and prepared to begin his day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

By midmorning he had finished his scheduled surgical procedures for the day. All were fairly straightforward, procedures he had performed many times and all went well. Martin was particularly careful with Mrs. Smithson, quickly checking in with her and her family just before the start of her surgery. No one would call him a superstitious man, but why chance it he thought. Get in and out, don't get involved and just take care of her as he had been trained. Everything went smoothly and there was no hint of any haemophobia. He didn't know why, but he felt somehow that he had just missed a potential career meltdown by the thinnest of hairs.

Sipping his espresso, carefully brewed in the new espresso machine he had recently installed in his office, he wrote up his notes and once again thought about his Portwenn dream. God knows he was grateful that he was not exiled to the back of beyond as a small village GP and that he was still able to work as a vascular surgeon. But he did remember evenings and weekends spent with his little family and the joy he felt just being at home with them, hearing Louisa and James chattering back and forth and the big smile on James' face whenever he saw his daddy. And then the nights with Louisa, just lying next to her, breathing in her scent, and more; those memories made his body long for her touch. _ "Ahhhh….really best try to forget that Ellingham"_. He finished up his notes and headed down the hall for his midmorning rounds with his registrars.

Rounds went fairly well today except for Pitts; that arse is not keeping up. Best to have it out with him, let him know that he needs to step it up or he's out; maybe find another specialty that is not so demanding, dermatology maybe. Before his dream he would have suggested General Practice, but now he felt the challenges facing GPs were underrated. "There is no way I'll sign off on his moving up unless he performs 100%. The reputation of surgical training at St. Mary's has to be maintained; patients want to feel confident that a surgeon trained here is not just adequate, but is tops in his field." He muttered to himself.

A few minutes later he was in the corridor, walking purposefully toward the surgical suites where he had a last minute procedure scheduled for 11:30. He was oblivious to the visitors and others crowding the hallways when he caught a glimpse, just a glimpse of something familiar: the swish of a dark ponytail. Caught off guard, he stopped for a moment, chastising himself, "_That dream has you hallucinating, Ellingham._" He shook himself and started back down the hall, then reconsidered and turned to see a young woman staring at the hospital map on the wall near the high dependency unit, a young woman with a dark ponytail, just like his Louisa's. "_Get a grip man_", he told himself, "_You know she's just a figment of your imagination". _He turned back and tried to focus on his patient, but then paused a second time letting curiosity overcome his normal indifference_, "It wouldn't do any harm to take a look_". Slowly he turned and walked back to where she was standing and said, "Can I help you?"

She looked up and replied, "Oh that would be wonderful. My friend was in the high dependency unit here yesterday, but they transferred her to another ward this morning, and I can't seem to find it here on the directory". She gave him the sheet where the nurse had written the name of the new ward and smiled up at him expectantly.

He managed to keep his expression calm as he realized that she was his Louisa. Her smile was even more brilliant than in his dream. How could she be here in his hospital? All he could do was stare wide-eyed in wonder. He wanted to enfold her in his arms and never let her go, but restrained himself. After all she wasn't really his Louisa, but a stranger who bore an uncanny resemblance to the woman of his dreams. She even had a slight Cornish accent. After a few seconds when he did not respond, she tilted her head and gave him a quizzical look. He had an odd expression on his face, puzzlement, hurt, longing; she couldn't really decide, but whatever he was thinking she needed to get to her friend's bedside. "Can you give me directions? ….or maybe, not?" she asked again.

"Yes, yes. Sorry, you reminded me of ..." he mumbled and looked down at the sheet she had given him. Realizing that the hospital had transferred her friend to a ward located in another wing, he quickly spoke up, "It's in another wing. I'm heading that way myself and could show you, if you like." Perhaps he could take her the long way around and have a few minutes to speak with her, find out something about her. His patient could wait.

"That would be very kind if you're sure it's not out of your way."

"No, it's not. It's this way", and he motioned for her to follow him down the hallway. "So your friend must be improving if she's been moved out of the HDU. Good news I'm sure."

'Yes, she had a really bad fall while we were out playing tourist yesterday. When she passed out and I couldn't wake her, I called an ambulance and came in with her to A&E. They were concerned that she might have some brain injury, and maybe a skull fracture, something called a basilar skull fracture? Fortunately she regained consciousness this morning. I think they've ruled out the skull fracture, but they still want to keep an eye on her in case her concussion worsens. So much for my holiday in London, I'm afraid"

"Must have been a serious fall. They are right to keep her under observation." He started to explain the potential medical consequences of blows to the head, and then thought better of it. He only had a few minutes and he wanted to find out more about her. "So you don't live here in London then?"

"No, I live and work in Cornwall. Holly, my friend, and I were in school together, and I came up to visit her while we both had some time before school term begins in September."

"So are you a teacher, in Cornwall?" he tentatively asked her.

"Yes, head teacher at Portwenn Primary in North Cornwall"

"Portwenn?" The similarities to his dream life were too close to be believable.

"Yes, it's a very small village. Few people I've met here in London know it, although we do get quite a few tourists in the summer months."

"I spent summers as a child on my Aunt's farm near Portwenn. Those were the happiest days of my childhood," he stated as a smile flickered across his face at the memory.

"Really? Is your Aunt still living there? Perhaps I know her. It's a very small village you know. Do you visit her there now?" She seemed genuinely interested.

Aunty Joan, he spoke with her on her birthday and at Christmas every year, but it had been far too long since he had been down to visit, only twice since his childhood. The first time was on that ill-fated trip with Edith, his fiancée during medical school; he could tell Aunty Joan and Edith didn't get on, not that it mattered in the end. Then a quick trip down with Ruth for Joan's sixtieth birthday; what an event that had been with every moron from the village crowded into the farmhouse! "My Aunty Joan, Joan Norton, still lives and works her farm just outside Portwenn. I haven't been down there in a number of years, and she is elderly. Just talking about her makes me realise I should visit."

"I know Joan. Actually I've known her all my life, but I didn't know she had a nephew. I'm sure she would enjoy a visit. She is one of the most caring women I know, always there to lend a hand, looking out for everyone in the village."

"Yes, she was always kind to me." He stopped in the hallway. "Here we are; your friend should be on the ward here."

"Thank you so much. It was nice meeting you….I don't think I caught your name?"

"Ellingham, Martin Ellingham".

She held out her hand, "Louisa Glasson. It was nice talking with you Martin".

He took her hand, "Yes." He turned to walk away, and then stopped. He needed to get to know her, learn even more about her, but how? If he left her now, he might never see her again unless he ran into her in Portwenn. Against his natural reticence, he slowly turned back and gently called her name, "Louisa?"

She stopped and turned, "Yes?"

"Louisa, it was nice talking with you also. Ehm," he stalled. "Would you be free for dinner tonight, or a drink? Perhaps you could tell me more about Portwenn." He didn't want her to think he was asking her out on a date, as such.

"That would be nice, but I've got plans to meet up with some friends for dinner tonight at 8." She noticed the look of disappointment that quickly crossed his face, and then reconsidered. "I guess I could meet for a drink before then." She wasn't sure she should be meeting up with this man she had just met and knew nothing about, but he seemed nice enough and he was related to Joan.

"Yes. Good. I know a nice little café near here. I'll meet you in the main lobby at 6:15 and we can walk there together".

Just then a voice over the hospital intercom announced, "Mr. Ellingham to theatre 3, Mr. Ellingham to theatre 3."

"I've got to go. I don't have a card with me, but let give you my number. Do you have a pen?"

She rummaged in her purse and handed him a worn down pencil. He quickly wrote his mobile number down on the sheet she had handed him earlier, and then asked, "May I have your number as well, just in case?" She gave him her number which he wrote on the edge of the sheet and then tore off. "I'll see you at 6:15", and with that he strode off.

She looked down and realized he still had her pencil and she started to walk after him, "Martin, my pencil…" but he was already around the corner and out of sight.

**. . . . .To be continued**


	3. Chapter 3

Holly was sleeping when Louisa approached her bed. Even though she was now on a regular ward, she was still hooked up to several machines that were monitoring her vital signs. The ward sister told her that Holly was much improved, but she still looked terrible, even worse than last night when her face was covered with scrapes where she had hit a stone planter when she slipped and fell down some steps in Kensington Gardens. Now those scrapes had turned into bruises. She had two large red circles around her eyes that made her look like a raccoon. Her nose was swollen and red, as were her lips. Louisa wondered if she could keep Holly away from a mirror until her face started to heal. Probably not, and Holly would be mortified when she realized that even make up wouldn't camouflage the damage.

"_Well_," Louisa thought with resignation, "_There's nothing I can do about it. Time heals all wounds, and all that. Holly will just have to deal with it in her own way." _ She sat down in the visitor's chair to think about the tall thoughtful surgeon she had just met; at least she was fairly certain he was a surgeon, or an important member of a surgical team. Why else would he have been paged to a surgical theatre? And wasn't it odd that he had family in her village; she resolved to call in on Joan as soon as she returned home to find out all about him. He certainly was an attractive man, although solemn, only a momentary hint of a smile while they were talking.

It was all very intriguing; she hoped she would have some success in learning more about him when they met for drinks this evening. Dinner would have given her more time, but she was glad she had an easy excuse to demur. You never knew how these things would go; if drinks went well, there was always time for dinner some other time. Perhaps she could tempt him to visit Joan and meet her for dinner in Cornwall. "_Louisa, Louisa, don't get carried away_", she smiled to herself, while twisting a strand of hair around her finger. "_Wait and see how this evening goes. And don't forget Michael; a few days in London and you're already thinking about another man. Shame on you! But it is an interesting development_".

She pulled out her tablet in order to finish the novel she had been reading when she heard Holly stir. "How are you feeling? You gave me quite a fright."

"Groggy, and my head hurts. Get me a drink of water?"

"Sure". Louisa went down the hall and returned with a plastic cup and a pitcher full of water. "Here you go."

She watched Holly chug down the cup of water. You would have thought it was a pint and she was a footballer the way she finished it off, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Not quite the elegant lady she presented to her students and their parents in her role as head teacher at her posh girls' school. "Do you remember anything from yesterday?" Louisa asked.

"Kind of a blur you know. I remember we got up quite late yesterday morning after staying up so late Sunday night. What a wonderful silly evening we had, wasn't it? Then we headed down to do the tourist things we always said we would do. I remember that we took a river cruise from Westminster Pier. We should have done that years ago."

"Yes, that was really an eye-opener. It's amazing how much you can learn about the city from the perspective of the river. I plan to put a unit together on the history of London from the pictures we took there."

Holly continued, "Then we went to Buckingham palace, but we didn't make it in time for the changing of the guard. That's too bad; we have to see that some time soon. Then we grabbed a quick lunch and headed over to Kensington Palace. Didn't we walk through the gardens there? I can't remember."

"Well that's because you slipped when we started walking down some steps. You hit your head on a stone planter, and then tumbled down to the bottom. You passed out and I couldn't get you to wake up. You scared me half to death. Luckily we were near hospital; I called an ambulance and they got you into A&E right away. And here we are.

"There was concern that there might be some brain damage or a skull fracture, but the scans didn't reveal any haemorrhaging or any obvious damage. You never did wake up last night and they made me go home, or back to your place as it was ... you know ... since I wasn't a relative. I was worried that you might be still unconscious this morning, but when I called, they told me you had revived and that you had been moved to this ward. I came as soon as I could after the start of visiting hours, but I had a little trouble finding you. This ward is a little off the beaten track, so to speak."

Holly wasn't happy with Louisa and wasn't shy about telling her. "I wish you had come earlier. I was so confused when I woke up and found myself in hospital. All they would tell me was that I had a fall and they were monitoring my condition. It was terrible being here all alone without any friends."

"Well, I came as soon as I could and I'm here now."

"Don't leave me again."

"I'll be here all afternoon", Louisa reassured her. "I'm still planning on meeting Randi and the gang for dinner tonight, and I promised I'd meet someone for drinks before then."

"Who are you meeting for drinks? Is it Dennis? You know he's finally found someone don't you, and he's engaged? Just tell him you have to stay with me until I'm settled for the night and you'll see him at dinner", Holly demanded.

"No, it's not Dennis; I haven't thought about him in ages; nice to know he's found someone to take care of him. I hope he will take care of her as well. No, it's not one of our old group. It's someone else actually, someone I met earlier today in hospital"

"Someone you just met? Not even an old friend? You're going to leave me early to meet up with someone you just met? Well that's just absurd! You can't; you can't". Holly was insistent.

"Holly", Louisa used her head teacher voice and looked at her friend sternly. "I will be here all afternoon and then I am leaving at 6. I will be back right at the start of visiting hours tomorrow morning, and if you're lucky, maybe they will let you go home. In the meantime, you need to rest and get better."

"Yes Miss", Holly replied in her best chastised schoolgirl voice, casting her eyes downward in mock submission. Then she laughed. "Oh it hurts to laugh. Okay, now tell me who he is"

"What makes you think it's a 'he'?"

"Why else would you be prevaricating?"

"I'm not prevaricating."

"Then tell me why you're so intent on meeting him for drinks."

"Okay, okay. His name is Martin. I met him while I was trying to find you this morning. He offered to guide me over here, and it turns out he spent his summers in Portwenn when he was growing up. I know his aunt who still lives there. He's very nice, and I think he might be a surgeon. I heard them paging him to one of the theatres."

"He's probably married with six kids."

"Maybe, but it can't hurt to meet up for one drink and talk about my village. It could be fun."

"Or he could be a letch. Be careful."

"He seems nice enough, but you're right. I'll be careful."

"Alright, permission granted this one time, but you have to tell me all about it. And don't forget to tell him how wonderful I am, just in case he's single or he has some single friends for me. You know how hard it is to find eligible men these days"

With that they went on to other subjects, lamenting the end of their tourist days and gossiping about all their friends whom Louisa would get to see at dinner that night.

. . . . . To be continued

**I'd like to thank all the readers who have left reviews so far. Your thoughts and comments are much appreciated. Thank you.**


	4. Chapter 4

Louisa sat across from Martin, staring at the menu in the very posh restaurant where all the staff seemed to know him. She had been somewhat disappointed when he had called at 5:30 yesterday afternoon cancelling their meet-up. Something about an accident and having to stitch up the survivors. He had been very apologetic and offered to take her to dinner tonight as recompense. Holly's doctors had told her she would be in hospital at least one more night, and since Louisa did not have any plans, she accepted Martin's offer. She thought, "_Well...why not; it's better than sitting here with Holly eating take out from the hospital canteen._"

Early the next morning before going to spend the day with Holly, she used Holly's home computer to research this "Martin Ellingham". There were all sorts of papers and medical articles that he had written, none of which made any sense to her, but he seemed to be highly regarded if the bios accompanying the conference brochures at which he had presented were to be believed. Some of the articles and brochures offered an accompanying picture which she studied to try to get a sense of the man. He was evidently a man of great gravitas, austere even. She thought him handsome if in an unconventional way and he was relatively young at just 41 years of age. Holly had asked her nurse if she knew anything about him. The nurse confirmed that he was on staff as a surgeon, specializing in vascular surgery, that he was considered a brilliant surgeon. When Holly pressed her for more personal information, did he have a family and such, the nurse just looked at her with an odd expression and replied, "No idea", shaking her head as she left the room.

When Louisa met Martin in the hospital's main lobby, she almost didn't recognize him out of his hospital scrubs. He raised his hand to signal her as she left the elevator. When she realized that the distinguished man in the impeccable dark suit, with stylish cuff links on the French cuffs of his perfectly pressed white shirt, all set off with a tastefully patterned red tie was the man with whom she had a dinner date, she caught her breath. "_Oh my_" she thought. "_I certainly __hope__ he isn't married with six kids._"

"Good evening", he greeted her. "How is your friend doing?" He had looked up Holly's records, and knew perfectly well that it was likely that Holly would be discharged tomorrow, but he didn't want to let on.

"She's improving. She's hoping to go home tomorrow; she just has to make it through the night without any problems ... So how was your day?"

"Routine"

She wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she asked him about yesterday's accident victims, "So ... were you able to stitch up the survivors last night?"

Looking confused, he replied, "What? Oh ... yesterday evening, yes. Bad accident, motor bike and a minivan, lots of broken bones and severed arteries. Sorry I had to cancel on you."

"But the victims are going to be alright? You were able to save them?" She was genuinely concerned.

"Em, all but the passenger on the motor bike. She had lost too much blood even before she reached A&E. I don't know why people won't wear helmets", he started to rant. "She was probably too concerned about messing her hair to worry about dying in an accident."

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think? Maybe she couldn't afford a helmet or perhaps she thought it was just a quick hop out to dinner and she didn't think she needed to bother with it. She didn't think." Louisa was appalled at his attitude and pulled away from him a step or two.

"Of course she didn't think; people never do", he almost shouted. Martin looked over at her and saw the alarm in her face and realized she was horrified at his outburst. This evening wasn't starting out well; best to pull back and tread more gently; she wasn't one of the A&E staff who saw the results of such carelessness day in and day out. "It was unfortunate", he added in a more normal tone, "Perhaps I sound callused or uncaring, but if you saw what we see every day, the after effects of such carelessness, you would grow frustrated as well. How can we prevent such casualties if people won't take precautions?"

"Ah, I hadn't thought of it that way. So you see this kind of thing often?" She looked at him with more understanding.

"Almost every day". He needed to change the conversation. He didn't want to talk about his work; he wanted to learn more about her. "I made a reservation at a restaurant just a little over a mile away and thought we could catch a cab" he said as he flagged one down.

London traffic really was horrible; that mile took almost 15 minutes. They passed a few landmarks which Martin pointed out, providing a brief commentary on each, and soon pulled up to a charming little restaurant tucked into a residential street near a secluded park. Martin paid the cabbie, jumped out and opened her door before she realized they had arrived. "Oh this is just lovely Martin", Louisa exclaimed as she admired the flowers spilling out of the window boxes lining the front of the establishment.

'Yes." He held the door open and motioned for her to enter.

"Ah, Mr. Ellingham, so nice to see you this evening. Let me take you to your table". The maitre d' greeted Martin with a slight smile raising his eyebrows to indicate to Martin his approval of his beautiful dinner companion. Giving a slight bow to Louisa, he addressed her directly, "Miss, follow me please", and he escorted them to a table in a secluded corner of the restaurant. They had barely settled when their waiter, Charles, brought water glasses, a basket of crusty whole meal bread and menus. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Martin tilted his head toward Louisa, indicating she should order. As she perused the wine menu, she selected a glass of her favourite white and looked up at Martin, who said, "I'll just have water ...for the moment".

"This is a charming restaurant, Martin"

"Yes, I have always found the meals here to be of a high nutritional value. They use the freshest ingredients and the chef prepares each dish using herbs, spices, and quality oils to ensure his cuisine is healthy as well as delicious. I hope you will like it."

After they had placed their order and the waiter had brought their salads, Martin asked Louisa if she had always lived in Portwenn.

"Yes, I was born in Portwenn and grew up there. My father was a fisherman and Mum worked in the school, then in the souvenir shops during the summer."

"Ah, she was a teacher then just like you?"

"Em ... well, no. She really didn't have much of an education; there were few opportunities in Cornwall when she was growing up. She was the lunch lady, in charge of preparing school lunches." "_It was a good thing too_", she added to herself. "_After Dad died, most of our suppers were the lunch leftovers, but Martin doesn't need to know that_."

"But you went to University, yes?"

"Yes, I had wonderful teachers when I was young who encouraged me to work hard so I was able to get a place in college here in London. It was a bit challenging working part-time jobs and keeping up with my class work, but I was determined to better myself. I taught in London for a few years after uni, then moved back to teach in the local primary school. The school governors gave me the chance to prove myself last year when the old head moved on. Its hard work, but I love it, making our school the best in the area. It's very rewarding."

"I'm sure you were the best candidate for the job". Martin remembered how she was the best candidate when he was forced to sit on the interview panel in his dream. Of course reality may have been completely different, but the woman sitting across from him seemed very well educated, self assured and competent. She probably was the best candidate for the job. "Being head of the school, I imagine that you are involved in all aspects of village life."

She laughed, "You can't even begin to imagine!" and she was off, telling him all about the challenges facing the village and how it affected her students. He was more than happy to listen to her and responded only with the occasional grunt or well placed "Yes" in order to indicate his interest. She was lovely and animated and he felt himself being drawn happily into her world, even smiling gently when she laughed.

They had both finished their meals and the waiter had brought the desserts menu when she exclaimed, "Oh - here I am, monopolizing the conversation without letting you get a word in. Please tell me something about yourself."

"Nothing much to tell really. Born here in London, went to boarding school at age six, then attended medical school, got my surgical training at Imperial. I've been a surgeon for the past twelve years and I lead a team of senior registrars at St. Mary's as well.*"

"No hobbies or outside interests, then?"

"I repair antique clocks and enjoy the occasional concert, but my career is very demanding if I am to keep up with the latest techniques and do the best for my patients."

"Um, how much longer are you in London?" Perhaps he could arrange to see her again before she left.

"I was planning to leave the day after tomorrow. Term time starts in just two weeks and I need to get back and make sure the school is ready for the students, hold tours for the new students and their parents, all that sort of thing. If Holly is released tomorrow as planned, I can help get her home and settled before I leave. If not, I may stay an extra day to help her out, but I really do have to get back. Of course I really didn't plan on spending the last three or four days of my holiday in hospital nursing a friend, but that's okay. I'm sure she would have done the same for me."

As Martin was settling up the bill, Louisa commented to the waiter how delicious the entire meal had been. She specially asked that he let the chef know how much they had enjoyed the meal. "Yes, very satisfactory", Martin added. Charles, their waiter, had served Mr. Ellingham before and knew that was high praise from his guest and knew that his tip would be very satisfactory as well. He thanked them and bid them a good evening as they exited the restaurant.

It was still relatively early in the evening and they could hear music coming from the park nearby. "Oh, let's go over to the park and wander for a bit, Louisa suggested. "It's so pleasant this evening. I haven't been able to enjoy these impromptu concerts that happen so frequently here in London."

Rather than sit on one of the benches, they strolled around the paths admiring the summer flowers spilling out of the beds lining the walks. The small band was playing show tunes, many from the musical Camelot and Louisa hummed along, occasionally singing softly, as she loved those old show tunes.

"You have a lovely singing voice. Have you had professional training", Martin couldn't help remarking.

"Oh, no, but thank you," she blushed. "Sometimes I just can't help myself when I hear these old tunes. You know legend has it that King Arthur was born in Cornwall and that Camelot was located in Cornwall as well, so these songs are special to me, make me think of home."

"Well, they are just legends, aren't they? There are many towns and cities that lay claim to Arthur, not just Cornwall. There are some scholars that speak of a tribal leader or king, if you wish, with a name that could be akin to Arthur, who may have had a power base in the west of England or Wales, but there is no real historical or archaeological evidence that he existed."

"That may well be, but in Tintagel they did find archaeological evidence of a settlement with the name "Arthur" inscribed there, and it is fun to speculate about it. And the song about Camelot still does make me think about home, no matter what the sceptics say," she responded defensively. She was nothing if not loyal to Cornwall and its claim to Arthur and didn't appreciate what felt like an historical lecture correcting her.

Fortunately Martin did not recognize the combative tone of her voice, and as he wasn't particularly interested in a conversation on the origins of the Arthurian legends, he took the opportunity to ask, "You are anxious to be home then?"

"Yes. As much as I enjoy the excitement of London, it will be nice to be back in my village". She was glad he had changed the subject. Although she was an expert on the history of Cornwall and its legends and myths, she felt it would be impolite to start an academic argument with a new acquaintance. She had enjoyed the evening thus far, and hoped there would be a time in the future for them to have that discussion.

"So", Louisa was still curious to find out more about Martin. "Did you always want to be a doctor?"

"Medicine is the family business; it's what we Ellingham's do."

"Your parents are doctors as well?"

"My father was a surgeon and my grandfather was an eminent physician in his time. I also have an aunt who is in medicine"

"Not Joan, I am pretty sure"

"No ... she was the family's black sheep and decided to marry a Cornish farmer. Just about killed my grandparents, or so I'm told. No, my Aunt Ruth, Joan's sister, is a psychiatrist, here in London."

"In private practice?"

"No…. Oh God!" He had just stepped in some dog's droppings. "Why can't people police their dogs? Don't they know the law requires pet owners to clean up after their disgusting animals? Oh God!" With a look of total revulsion on his face, he tried to clean the offending substance from his shoe in the grass at the edge of the walk.

Louisa looked on, somewhat amused, but sensing that a chuckle on her part would not be welcome, instead tried to sympathize. "Oh dear, how unfortunate. Some people are so inconsiderate. Here I have a tissue in my purse if that will help." And she offered Martin a packet of tissues. She found a bench nearby and sat down to rest. She continued to hum along with the music and watched while he meticulously cleaned his shoe.

"So you were telling me about your aunt who is a psychiatrist." She patted the bench indicating he should sit next to her and he perched on the edge still looking at his shoe, turning it this way and that to ensure he had removed all of the noxious excrement.

"Yes, Aunt Ruth, she works at Broadmoor. She assesses the criminally insane."

"Oh..." Louisa found that unsettling. "Are your parents here in London as well?"

"No." He definitely didn't want to discuss them and he did have several procedures scheduled for early the next morning, and he needed to finish cleaning his shoes. "Em... It's getting late for me I'm afraid. I must rise very early tomorrow."

"It's been a lovely evening, but I understand." Louisa stood up, twirled around, and pointed. "There's a tube stop just the next block over..."

"No, let me see you back to your friend's home", he took her elbow as he hailed a cab.

Louisa gave the cabbie Holly's address and they settled into an amiable silence. Aware that his shoe still reeked of dog faeces, he apologized. "So sorry about the smell"

"What smell?" she asked as she sniffed the air.

Pointing down he replied "My shoe. I couldn't get all of it removed". He reddened slightly with embarrassment, which she found charming.

"Well I can't smell it, so don't worry." All the while she was thinking. "_What a little old lady he can be. Hard to believe he and Joan are related. Joan would shrug that off without a thought"._

He hated to end the evening, but he did need sleep to be on top of his game the next morning; he also wanted to see her again and so once again he pulled some courage from wherever it usually hid when he was interested in someone, and said in as casual a voice as he could muster," If you find yourself here longer, I could escort you to some of the more interesting historical sites here in London, or perhaps to a museum or play?"

"That's very thoughtful of you. I'll let you know. And you will let me know if you come down to Cornwall to see Joan?"

"Yes."

They pulled up to Holly's home, and Martin jumped out to walk her to the door, signalling the driver to wait. "I'm sorry that I have to cut our evening short, but I have several procedures scheduled early tomorrow morning."

"Oh no, no. That's perfectly understandable. I really enjoyed our evening. Thank you for inviting me. Good night" and she extended her hand.

With a shy smile, he took her hand in both of his and gave it a gentle shake. "Yes, I had a nice evening as well. Thank you for joining me. Good night"

He continued to hold her hand, gazing at her as if he wanted to tell her something, but holding back. She looked up at him and smiled and then pulled her hand away to turn the key in the lock, "Good night, then."

"Yes, good night."

***Author's note: In S1, E1, Martin tells the interview panel that he led a team of senior registrars at St John's. In S1, E2, Adrian Pitts quips that Martin abused himself and others at St. Mary's. And in S3, E5, Holly tells Louisa that Martin and Johnny Bamford were consultants together at St. Thomas'. Given the inconsistencies, I have chosen to put Martin, in my story, at St. Mary's because their vascular surgery unit is world-renowned. **


	5. Chapter 5

Holly was discharged the next day, and Louisa thought it was a good thing too. She was driving her nurses mad with her constant complaints and demands. The food was terrible, cold and tasteless; the internet service was unreliable; it was too noisy on the ward, and on and on. Louisa had brought a clean change of clothes for Holly to wear home, a lovely casual outfit that she, Louisa, would have been thrilled to call her own, but Holly was not pleased. "Why would you choose that for me to wear? The slacks are no longer fashionable, too baggy for this year's look, and the colours are dated as well. I've been meaning to take it to the second-hand shop, but just hadn't made the time to clean out my closet".

"I had thought that something with a little more room would be more comfortable given the bruises on your backside. Well, it's what you've got; I'm not going back to find something else. Would you rather wear the hospital gown home? We could tie it up quite nicely to preserve your modesty, pretty little bow? ... hm?" Louisa shot back at her friend, all the while thinking. "_Honestly, I love her to bits, but she is such a pain in the arse sometimes_".

"Give it here. I'll just have to make do." Holly took the outfit and shook out the slacks eyeing them critically. With a loud sigh, she pulled the curtain separating her bed from the rest of the ward to ensure her privacy and started to dress. "Can you make sure to gather up all my discharge papers and flowers and such? Thanks, you really are a dear putting up with me".

"Right" Rolling her eyes, Louisa slipped through the curtain and went to rustle up some boxes to put the flowers and balloons that all of Holly's friends and colleagues had sent. Holly had only been three days in hospital, but she had received enough flowers to fill up several florist shops. She must know half the people in London. Louisa wasn't sure where they would put them in Holly's flat, but, again, that wasn't her problem.

She managed to get Holly, herself, and all of Holly's "stuff" into a cab and then out again and into her flat. Fortunately they did not encounter any of Holly's many friends or acquaintances. Louisa would never have heard the end of it if anyone had seen Holly attired in last year's fashions; she had an excuse for the condition of her face, but it would be impossible to explain wearing last year's colour palette. As to the bruises and contusions on her face, Holly had insisted that she was not to have visitors while in hospital. She was hoping the discoloration and swelling would subside before she had to face the world the following week.

Once Holly had changed into something more fashionable and they had settled with a hot cuppa, Holly started in on Louisa's "date" with Martin the night before. "Okay, dish. What happened last night? Tell me everything".

"Not much to tell really. We took a cab from hospital to a lovely little restaurant near St James Park. He obviously goes there frequently because they greeted him by name and were very attentive. The food was wonderful; you could tell it was extremely fresh; and as Martin pointed out, it was very healthy too. He seems to be very health conscious, but I really didn't learn much else about him.

"He is very quiet and serious. As best I could fathom, his life revolves around his work, not much else. His father and grandfather were both doctors and he has an aunt who is a psychiatrist at Broadmoor."

Holly's eyes widened.

Louisa nodded slightly. "Yeah, I know; kind of creepy. Oh, and he likes to repair antique clocks!"

"Oh, ho," Holly threw back her head and crowed. "So, did he try to lure you back to his flat to 'show you his clocks'?"

"No ..." Louisa grinned at her friend and shook her head. "He was a perfect gentleman. We walked around the park and listened to a concert. Then he took me home, quite early; I was back before half nine. There was one moment when I worried he might try to make a move, but he didn't. He walked me up to your door and we shook hands, and he held onto my hand just a little too long, like he wanted to say something. But then we said goodnight and he left."

"So you didn't invite him in for a drink?"

"No. It really wasn't that kind of date. Plus he said he had to be in theatre early this morning"

"Doesn't sound like you'll see him again if he took you home so early."

"Hard to say. He offered to show me around the city if I were here longer and he promised to call me when he visits Portwenn."

"So I assume there isn't a wife and six kiddies tucked away in the suburbs somewhere?"

"I don't think so. He didn't mention a wife or children, but he does wear what appears to be a wedding band on his right ring finger, which is odd. I'll have to ask him about it if he comes to visit in Portwenn".

"That is peculiar. Usually if a man is cheating on his wife, he hides the ring in his coat pocket, not in plain sight on his other hand. But you never know; I'd be careful if I were you. You remember that I asked my nurse if she knew whether he had a family".

"Yes, and I heard her say she had no idea. Did you find out anything else whilst I was gone"

"Well I asked my night nurse and she responded the same way...brilliant surgeon and no idea about his personal life. Although I could have sworn I heard the nurse mutter under her breath as she left, 'Mr. Ellingham married? Can't even imagine it'. Or something like that. You have to wonder. Like I said, I'd tread carefully until I got to know him well. So do you think you can lure him down to Cornwall"?

"As I said, his aunt lives near Portwenn; I see her frequently around the village. I'm thinking I may pop in on her and see what else I can find out about him."


	6. Chapter 6

Martin was in a quandary. On the one hand, he had thoroughly enjoyed his evening with Louisa and he wanted to see her again, so much so that he'd found himself daydreaming about her almost constantly. On the other hand, he had been and still was content with his orderly life in London, immersed in his surgical career, his quiet evenings at home working on his clocks, and the occasional outing to the theatre or symphony. It satisfied his soul, or so he had thought. Did he really want to risk his tranquillity by chasing after a young woman who was bound to complicate his life in ways that he could only begin to imagine? His Portwenn dream life had been chaotic after James' birth when he and Louisa moved in together, and chaotic it had remained even after they had gone through all that gruelling therapy.

How much younger was she? He did some research and based on the information on the Portwenn Primary site, he estimated she was age 32, nine years younger than he. Was it foolish of him to even think she could be interested in a dull, set-in-his-ways middle aged bachelor like himself? He was aware that he had certain attributes that could be considered desirable despite his unpleasant demeanour and social awkwardness. He was of a higher social class than Louisa and that might hold some attraction for her, but the lines between the classes were more blurred these days and not likely to mean much. He was a doctor and even more importantly, he was a surgeon. Many women were attracted to doctors, especially surgeons. He knew from experience how that went; women throwing themselves at him, sometimes even showing up in his bed, always anxious to please him until they really got to know him at which point they either tried to change him or dumped him for a new conquest. He'd actually fallen for a few of them only to experience some hurt in the end. It was better to avoid those types at all costs. But he didn't think this Louisa was one of those women. After all he was the one who had initiated contact, not her.

Of course the whole idea that she could be attracted to him was ridiculous. He was not a loveable person. Only his Aunty Joan, and occasionally Aunt Ruth, had ever shown him any affection. Certainly his parents hadn't wanted him; he was a nuisance; they never actually said so to his face, but they spent as little time with him as possible, and they hadn't spoken with him in years.

Wasn't that a big part of his "therapy", accepting that someone could love him despite his difficult ways. But that therapy didn't actually happen did it? It was all part of his dream, a figment of his imagination. Of course he reminded himself that dreams can have their basis in one's subconscious, in all the information and stimuli that one encounters over the years. He specialised in vascular surgery, but he was also a student of all the different fields of medicine. For a surgeon, even a highly specialized surgeon such as himself, it was important to understand all bodily systems and how they interacted with one another. This included the brain and how problems with mental health could affect the recovery of his patients. He had studied various types of mental health therapy and was conversant in psychiatry. As a plus it enabled him to talk shop with his Aunt Ruth on occasion. Perhaps some of his dream therapy had not been far off the mark. Perhaps he should consult with Ruth about his own situation.

After spending the evening with her, he determined that he had seen Louisa in A&E the afternoon she had come in with Holly. He remembered hearing someone speaking in a Cornish accent, and when he turned his head in that direction, he had caught a glimpse of a beautiful young woman with long dark hair. He paused for a very short moment to glance at her, and then hurried on his way. He had been called to evaluate an accident victim needing emergency surgery, and there was no time to spare. After he had stabilized the patient and he was on his way to theatre, he noticed that she was still there, telling the reception clerks her name and giving them information about her injured friend. It was warmer than usual in A&E and she had pulled her hair up into a long ponytail, and he was struck by how lovely she was. He stopped to stare, ignoring the chaos swarming about him, straining to hear what she was saying. He caught just enough of her words to pique his interest, but soon he recalled his patient and went to prepare for surgery. In less than a minute, he had forgotten her, or so he had thought. Obviously she had made a big impression on his subconscious since she figured prominently in his dream.

This was ridiculous, all this obsessing over some Cornish schoolteacher. Could it be what they call a midlife crisis. Not likely.

He was not meant to be a family man; his life was in medicine; that was where he could do the most good for mankind. By the end of the week following their dinner, he had all but talked himself out of any interaction with Louisa. He really knew nothing about her and doubted that she would be anything like "his" Louisa. Despite his best efforts however, she continued to haunt his dreams at night and fill his thoughts during the day. Whenever he caught a glimpse of a young woman that might be her, he found himself making an excuse to look more carefully, just in case. He was certain that this obsession would end soon, or so he hoped.

Then last night Aunty Joan called. Evidently Louisa had been to visit and had mentioned her encounter with him. "Martin", she burbled. "Louisa said that you were planning to come down to visit me. I can't tell you how excited I am. So when can you come? It's been much too long."

Her call had surprised him, and unable to find an excuse, he had committed to a visit the week-end after next. He was really looking forward to seeing his Aunt whom he thought of with great affection. She had been the most supportive of all his relatives, and he had adored her as a child. Ellinghams were notoriously undemonstrative, but Aunty Joan was always there with a hug for him in the morning when he arose, and at night when she tucked him into bed and often during the day "just because you are you" she would tell him. He had loved spending summers and Christmas breaks with her and Uncle Phil, but that had all stopped when he was twelve. No one ever told him why; he had assumed it was because he had become a nuisance. He was pleasantly surprised when Aunty Joan had welcomed him and Edith so warmly when they had visited during a short break while in medical school. After that, he had only been back that one time for her sixtieth birthday, a quick weekend trip with Aunt Ruth.

As he thought about that visit, he wondered if Louisa had been one of the well-wishers. He hadn't noticed her there, but then he had slipped away soon after the guests had started to arrive, and the din had become unbearable. He had walked over to the cliffs, and looked out over the water and remembered his childhood holidays, the happy memories of those times warming him. Yes, they were happy times.

He had been remiss in his failure to visit Aunty Joan more often. It was not because he didn't want to see her. He had been focused on establishing his career to the exclusion of all else; now that he had secured a respected position in his profession, he could take a few days to visit. He decided that he would catch a train down to Bodmin station right after morning consultations on Friday and rent a car. He would spend Friday evening with Joan. He thought he would explore the towns around Portwenn on Saturday, maybe even check out the ruins at Tintagel that Louisa had talked about. He thought he would take Aunty Joan out to brunch on Sunday and perhaps wander the coastal path Sunday afternoon. He planned to take the train back to London to arrive in time for rounds Monday evening and to prepare for Tuesday morning procedures.

He found that he was really looking forward to his trip, but he thought it best that he avoid Louisa. It would still be early in the school term, and it was likely she would not have any time to visit with him. He might catch a glimpse of her while in the village or they might run into each other and exchange pleasantries, but no need to spend any time together. Then unexpectedly she called him on the Tuesday evening before his trip.

"Hello, Martin? I ran into Joan this morning in the village and she said you were coming down this weekend."

"Yes."

"I was wondering if I could show you around the village; maybe take a walk up the coastal path if the weather permits. What do you think?"

"_Blast it_", he thought scowling, but he was also tempted and decided it would be rude to decline. "I don't want to intrude on your time. Won't you be busy with the school?"

"It's the weekend, Martin. No school on Saturday or Sunday. I may have to do some preparation on Sunday evening, but I'm free all day Saturday. How about it? I could pick you up around noon or one."

"No need. I plan to rent a car whilst I am down there. I could drive in and meet you. Are you sure you don't have anything better to do?"

"Nonsense. I want to repay you for the lovely evening you treated me to whilst I was in London. Give me your e-mail address and I'll send you directions to my cottage...and don't forget your hiking gear. The coastal path can get rocky and we may want to explore; it can be a bit tricky without good footwear".

"Well, if you really want to."

"Wouldn't you enjoy it?" She was beginning to think that he wasn't interested in seeing her. Perhaps she had misinterpreted his attentions on their dinner date, which is how she was thinking of it nowadays. At the time, it had seemed to her that he couldn't keep his eyes off of her.

"Yes, yes, I would." "_Not so sure about the rocky part of the coastal path though._" He added to himself.

"Good, then it's settled. I'll see you around half twelve. We can grab a bite at the pub and then set off. What's your e-mail address?"

After he gave her his address and had hung up, he started to feel a mixture of excited anticipation at spending time with her and an overwhelming sense of anxiety that things would go wrong. He didn't relish lunch at the pub or meeting all the villagers that they were bound to run into; making small talk was never something at which he excelled or enjoyed. Maybe if he didn't bugger it up too badly, he could talk her into dinner somewhere quiet away from the village. He'd have to research quality restaurants in the area before he left...and purchase some hiking boots.


	7. Chapter 7

Louisa returned to the village the day after Holly was released from hospital, and was immediately overwhelmed with work getting school ready for the new term; she'd had no time to visit with Joan and ask her about Martin. On a quick lunch break one afternoon she happened to run into Joan on the Platt long enough to mention that she had met Martin and wanted to ask Joan over to learn more about him, but not until term time had settled in. Joan was thrilled to hear news of her nephew and called Louisa a week into the school term to invite her over for tea the following Sunday afternoon.

Louisa had known Joan as long as she could remember and now considered her a friend. Both were very involved in village life and could always find something to discuss whenever they saw each other, but they rarely sat down together over a cuppa, just the two of them.

"So how did you happen to meet Martin? Oh, and tell me how he looked; did he look healthy?" Joan wanted to hear all about her nephew and to know more about this acquaintance.

"I would say he looked healthy, and very distinguished, quite posh. You'll be happy to know that he was a perfect gentleman. I haven't been out with anyone that gallant in ages, maybe never." Louisa raised her eyebrows and grinned.

She continued. "So ... how did we meet? Well, I was visiting my friend Holly for a week. I don't know if I've told you about her. She and I roomed together whilst in university, in London. We had arranged to spend the week visiting all the tourist sites, but she was hurt the second day out. We called an ambulance and they took her to hospital. Turns out, it was the same one where Martin works. She had been placed in the HDU the night she was admitted, but had been moved to another ward by the time I got to hospital the next day. I was standing at the hospital directory trying to determine how to get to her ward when Martin walked up and offered to help me. He was very nice, and…"

Joan had to interrupt her. "Really? Marty offered to help you? That doesn't sound like the Marty I know. He can be rather reserved and that's putting it mildly."

"Yes, I suppose he can be. But that morning, he was very courteous and helpful. He asked me about my friend and recognized my Cornish accent and we got to discussing Cornwall and how he spent his summers here when he was a child. We ended up going out to dinner the next evening, to a very nice restaurant I might say."

"Yes, Marty would be very particular about where he dined." Joan tried to hide her surprise at Martin asking Louisa to dinner. Everything Louisa had said of Martin contradicted what she thought she understood of his character, painfully shy, aloof, and antisocial. Perhaps his professional success had bolstered his confidence in other parts of his life.

"I have to admit I did most of the talking, so you are definitely right about his being reserved. That's one of the reasons I wanted to get together with you. He really didn't have much to say about himself. What can you tell me? What kind of person is he? Does he have any family? That sort of thing"

Joan slid her forefinger along her cheek in thought. "Ah, you mean, 'is he married?'" She glanced at Louisa with a twinkle in her eye. "Well not that I know of, and I'm fairly certain he would tell me or Ruth. He was engaged once in medical school, but that didn't work out. She went abroad for her career. Good thing too; she was a bit overbearing if you ask me; wouldn't have made him happy. No, Marty always wanted to be a doctor, and I think he is one of those men who are married to their careers. And he is very successful, a credit to the family name, or so I hear."

"Yes, the hospital nurses we asked all spoke very highly of his skills. He told me that his father and grandfather were both doctors and that his aunt was a psychiatrist at Broadmoor...that's your sister, right?"

"Right, my sister Ruth. I was the only one who rebelled, married a Cornish farmer. Actually this farm belonged to my Uncle Dick, my father's brother, another renegade from the Ellingham clan. When he died, he left it to me and Christopher, Martin's father. Christopher wasn't interested in farming, and said that Phil and I could have it, and I've been here ever since."

"It's funny. When we were talking about his family, I asked if he saw his parents often, and he said 'no', and then changed the subject. It was odd."

"Ah...Marty's parents, the less said the better, in my opinion. No warm fuzzies there. I don't think he and his parents have spoken in years."

"Oh dear. How sad. My mom and I certainly have our issues, and I don't see her much now that she's moved to Spain, or Portugal, or Italy, or wherever she is at the moment, but I do love her, and we still speak occasionally. She did her best to raise Alan and me especially after Dad died, and she did make a loving home for us, at least until I went off to college."

Joan continued. "I should let Martin tell you about his parents himself, but suffice it to say, I don't think they really wanted to be bothered with a child...let the nanny take care of him until he was old enough to send off to boarding school and then to my farm for holidays. They spent as little time with him as they could. But he seems to have made a success of himself anyway. I do worry sometimes that he may be lonely."

"I can't believe what you've said about his parents and his childhood. No child should be raised like that. Makes me feel sorry for him."

"Well don't let him hear you say that. He is a very proud man and would never want anyone to feel sorry for him."

"Okay. I'll be careful not to pry too much."

She reached over the table for more tea and to take a chocolate biscuit. As she stirred sugar into her cup, she said, "I may have talked him into coming down to Cornwall to visit. He seemed interested in seeing you, said it had been a long time. But I haven't heard from him, so I don't know if he'll actually come. Maybe he was just humouring me, or being polite?"

"I'll give him a call. He may think I'm too busy for him or some such nonsense and need a push."

Joan thought about it for a moment. "When he was twelve, his father decided it was time for Marty to focus on his studies full time and stopped his visits to the farm. I argued with Christopher, telling him that everyone needs a break, but I'm afraid that just made him more determined. He was always a stubborn arse. I always worried that Marty might have thought that I didn't want him, that he was too much trouble. And he's only been down here once or twice since then."

"_What a sad story, such a terrible father." _Louisa thought to herself. It was sad hearing Joan's memories and she tried to comfort her. "I think he would like to come. He spoke very fondly of you. If he does decide to come, let me know. I owe him a dinner, if nothing else"

Joan grabbed a biscuit and then changed the subject."So tell me how you and Michael are getting on these days. Getting serious?"

"Oh Joan. I don't know. I am really fond of him, but I'm just not sure if he is "the one", you know? He's pressing me to take it to the next level, but I just don't see any future in it."

"What do you mean 'take it to the next level'?"

"You know...spend the night, that sort of thing."

"You mean you haven't slept with him yet. Why ever not? You've been seeing each other for how long now, almost a year? What are you waiting for?"

"I just don't want to take that step unless I think there may be a future for us, and you know he's never made a secret of his intentions to leave Portwenn when his contract is up at the end of next year. He'll be moving back to America. He's hinted that I could move back with him, but I don't want to leave Cornwall let alone England!"

Louisa paused in thought and Joan chimed in, "I know you love the village, as do I, but it's not like you have family ties keeping you here. You really are free to go wherever you like."

'Yes, but here is where I like. Portwenn is home. Maybe if I really did love him, I'd follow him back to America. But, you know, there is something about him that isn't quite right for me, although I can't put my finger on it. And until I'm sure, I just don't want to let sex confuse me."

She continued thinking out loud, "After Dennis and I divorced, I dated a number of different men, and slept with several of them after just a few dates, but I found that really didn't work for me; too traumatic when it ended. I decided that it was best to take it slow and save that step for when I found a man I thought I could have a future with. It's just that that man hasn't shown up yet."

"Unless you are looking for a farmer or fisherman, good men are hard to find here in the back of beyond, and you're not getting any younger. You may have to look a little further afield". Joan raised her eyebrows suggestively. She couldn't help thinking that maybe she could play matchmaker between Louisa and Martin. Maybe Marty had improved his social skills in the past 20 years; his encounter with Louisa gave her hope, not a lot, but some.

"Yes, I suppose you are right. I'd really like to have a family, which I would love to raise here in Portwenn. But I could accept moving to another part of England as long as I could keep a cottage here and come down for holidays and long weekends. But it would have to be the right man."

"Keep your eyes open then."

**Author's note: HDU stands for High Dependency Unit for patients that require more care than is available on a general ward, but who do not require the critical care provided in ICU, and intensive care unit.**


	8. Chapter 8

Martin pulled his rental car into the yard at Havenhurst farm. Joan had been keeping watch out the window as she prepared an early supper for them both. She couldn't wait to see her little Marty; he was the closest she had ever had to having a child. She ran out the door and paused for a minute just to take all of him in. It was hard to believe that the sensitive and shy little boy she had loved and nurtured all those summers ago was the same tall distinguished man in the bespoke suit who unfolded himself from the luxury sedan that had parked just outside her kitchen window. He looked wonderful, if a little pale. A weekend in the Cornish countryside would certainly put some colour in those cheeks. But for now, she needed to feel him in her arms, and to that goal she rushed to give him a hug. "Little Marty, it's so good to see you." She grinned up at him as she hugged him again. "But you're not my 'little' Marty any more are you?"

"Aunty Joan" he responded with a slight smile as he returned her hug. He turned to lift his bag out of the boot, and as they walked into the house, she said, "I've prepared a chicken for dinner just the way you liked it when you were little." They went into the house, and Martin sniffed, "Yes. Smells good."

As they entered the kitchen, Joan tilted her head towards the stairs and asked, "You do remember the way to your old room?"

"Of course" he replied as he jogged up the stairs to unpack for the weekend. As he put his things in the wardrobe, he couldn't help noticing how shabby the house had grown. Was it always like this and he hadn't noticed? The stair banister was wobbly, and some of the paper was peeling off the walls. And the plumbing in the bath creaked and sputtered when he went to use the toilet and wash up from the trip before dinner. He worried. It appeared that Aunty Joan wasn't able to keep up with repairs.

He looked out the window and saw the fields of vegetables and grains, almost ready for harvest. He had never been here this time of year. As he stared out the window, he began to see the farm with the eyes of a ten year old boy, the old tractor, the chicken coop, the sheep out in the fields, the great vegetable patch, and the fields of grains spreading out to the sea, and Uncle Phil walking up to the house for the midday meal.

He couldn't remember the first time he came to the farm, but he knew the story. It was the summer when he was three, and he was to stay with his Aunty Joan for the next four weeks. His parents had scheduled a long vacation and his nanny had to go visit a sick relative, so Joan had volunteered to care for him while she was gone. He had come down with his nanny and his father; they left after the first night and he cried when his nanny left. Joan picked him up in her arms still sobbing and took him out to the barn to see the new kittens; they were just a few days old and still had their eyes closed. He watched as they pushed against their mother's belly with their paws as they nursed. Aunty Joan had picked up one of the kittens and put it in his arms, showing him how to stroke its soft fur. The feel of the little kitten wiggling in his arms stopped his tears and set him to giggling. She took him to see the other farm animals and then packed a picnic lunch for them to take out to the cliffs where they had looked for butterflies. Except for the times that Uncle Phil took him out on the tractor, he spent the rest of that visit by Aunty Joan's side; she called him her little shadow. And he cried when his nanny came down to take him back to London.

That trip had been so successful that his parents arranged with Joan for Martin to visit again the following summer and then on school holidays as well when he went off to boarding school. He could remember asking Aunty Joan if he could just stay with her instead of going back to school. She had hugged him tightly and told him she would love to have him stay, but that it was important to get a good education, and that his parents had chosen a good school for him to attend, better than the village school he would attend if he were to stay with her. The thought of his schooling pulled him out of his reverie. He had to admit that he had had a superior education; that was something he would have to research for his own children were he to have them.

He headed back down the stairs, glancing again at the peeling paint, and entered the kitchen where Joan had set out dinner. As they sat down to their meal, Joan exclaimed once again her pleasure with his visit, "I am so glad you've come. It's been so long. I think the last time was when you were in medical school and you brought that friend of yours...what was her name?"

"Edith". He looked down at his plate with a sour look. He certainly didn't want to discuss Edith, recently back from abroad to open her own fertility clinic and who seemed to be everywhere these days, always suggesting they go out to dinner or attend some concert. She even had the temerity to suggest they spend a weekend away together. So far he had managed to fend her off, but she seemed determined. She was never one for taking no for an answer. So he changed the subject. "I was here for your sixtieth birthday, if you remember."

"Ah yes, but that weekend was a whirlwind. We really didn't get to visit, just you and me, did we? Well you're here now and we'll be able to have a right good catch up, now won't we."

"Yes, I was focused on my career to the exclusion of everything else. It wasn't until I ran into Louisa at hospital that I realized how long it had been and that I really wanted to come down and see you."

"Ah, yes, Louisa. Lovely young woman. I'm so glad you ran into her. Will you see her while you are here?" She hoped he would take the time to visit and thought to herself, _"I might as well encourage him right from the start. Maybe something could come of this._"

"She wants to show me around the village. I'm meeting her at her cottage at half noon tomorrow."

Joan was delighted. "You'll certainly get a complete introduction to the village. Louisa knows every nook and cranny and every one of the folks who lives there."

"Great." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Well, behave yourself. I had hoped you wouldn't have inherited your parents' penchant for bluntness and unpleasantness. Do try to be somewhat polite with the villagers. Just smile and say 'nice to meet you'. You can do that, can't you? "

"I'm not a complete idiot you know. But I do say what I think. It's just better that way. Be honest and straightforward. No need to sugar coat things."

"Just don't embarrass Louisa. Be considerate of her feelings. When I spoke with her, she seemed pleased that she could show off the village to you, so don't be too critical. Remember the old adage…'if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all'."

"I'll keep your excellent advice in mind" he replied while rolling his eyes. In an effort to show her he did have some social graces, he added, "This chicken is delicious and I am really enjoying the fresh vegetables. Vegetables fresh from the garden are impossible to find in London."

"Thank you."

They spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about his childhood visits to the farm and his Uncle Phil, picnics in the farm fields looking over the sea and trips to the other towns in the area. Martin wanted to ask if they had ever taken a sail with a man named John Slater, but decided against it. Perhaps he was just a figment of his imagination, and if not, he didn't want to stir up memories for his aunt that might dampen her mood. He wanted her to know that it wasn't his decision to stop his visits, but she brought up the topic first.

"When you stopped coming to the farm, did your father tell you why?"

He looked down at his plate and told her, "He told me it was time to grow up, be a man, and focus on my studies." He considered whether to admit how distraught he had felt when his Dad first told him his visits to the farm were over, then decided he must say something, "I did miss you and Uncle Phil. But I suppose he was right; the extra work enabled me to attend medical school a year earlier than I would have otherwise."

"Mmm."

Joan seemed to be thinking about it, and Martin couldn't contain his curiosity." Was there another reason? Was it no longer convenient?"

Joan stared at him for a few moments, thinking. "No ... no... certainly not!" Then she paused before adding, "You know he and I fought about it. I wanted you to continue coming, but he was adamant. He thought I was spoiling you." She was angry, but then she changed her tone, smiled over at him across the table and added, "But now you're here, and I hope you will be back much more often."

He gave her a small smile back, "Yes."


	9. Chapter 9

When Louisa had e-mailed him with the directions to her cottage, he was disappointed that it was not White Rose cottage. He knew it was unrealistic of him to expect her to live there, but the memory of the short time they had spent together in that cottage continued to fill him with joy. He still had a hard time accepting that those memories weren't real. He had to accept that she didn't live in White Rose cottage; her cottage was further up the hillside with no parking area so he had to use the car park and walk to her cottage.

Aunty Joan had insisted that he take her some flowers from the garden, and he felt a bit foolish walking through the village carrying a bouquet of flowers for fear that at any moment a coven of teenage girls would sail by just looking for someone like him to ridicule. Fortunately there were no girls, few tourists, few people anywhere. Early October was undoubtedly a bit late in the season for tourists, and everyone else was inside for lunch. There was some activity down by the Platt and a few groups were clustered outside the pub, but he didn't have to walk near either of those spots so he was able to slip up to her cottage unseen. He should have known however, that in Portwenn, nothing went unseen; there were eyes peeking out of curtains in several of the houses on his way. His arrival and his possible identity were being discussed around the village almost before he knocked on her door.

Louisa had also been on the lookout for him and opened the door just as he finished knocking. "Martin, it's so nice to see you." She greeted him warmly with her brilliant smile.

Martin nodded his head and thrust out the flowers in her direction, "For you". He looked at her expectantly.

She was a little taken aback at his abrupt manner, but recovered immediately and graciously thanked him, "Oh they are lovely. It was so thoughtful for you to bring me flowers". She was surprised that he would think to bring her anything at all. She certainly wasn't expecting flowers.

"They're from Joan" he added bluntly.

"Oh…." Then remembering her manners, she turned and stepped back from the door. "Please come in. Can I take your jacket?"

"No ... um ... I'm fine"

"I know I had suggested that we go to the pub for lunch, but I was thinking last night that the lunch offerings there are typical pub grub, not the healthiest food around. I thought perhaps we could just have a quiet lunch here in my cottage, maybe take a short tour around the village and then go for a walk along the cliff path. Is that alright?"

"Yes ... good."

Looking down at his polished black dress shoes, she asked, "You remembered to bring your hiking boots, yeah?"

"Yes, they are in the car. I should go back and get them." What he didn't tell her was that he had just bought them a few days ago along with the dark chinos and navy blazer he was wearing. When the clerk was ringing up his shoes in the camping and hiking outfitters where he found the boots, he pointed him in the direction of the sportswear department suggesting a new pair of jeans or some cargo pants for his outing. Jeans - never. Cargo pants - Martin didn't even know what those were. But he did realize that his usual attire might not be suitable for the challenges he might encounter on the coastal path. So he opted for a pair of dark pants in a rugged fabric and a navy blazer reminiscent of his public school uniform. Not his usual elegant attire, but he felt they were appropriate for the anticipated activity and he felt somewhat at home in them since they were similar to his standard suit. No chance of seeing anyone he knew down here anyway. He paired them with a dark grey dress shirt and a navy and maroon patterned tie and felt it was a good result.

"No, no we can get them later after lunch. And you could probably ditch the tie."

Seeing the horrified look on his face, she added, "or not. I thought it might be more comfortable."

"Hm." He grunted.

"Let me get these in some water," she motioned with the flowers he had brought and went to a cupboard to pull out a vase and started to fill it with water. "What can I get you to drink? Water, soft drink, cider, or a cool glass of white wine?

"Water will be good."

"I made some simple chicken sandwiches on whole meal bread and a green salad. I hope you like it."

"Sounds adequate. I'm sure they will be quite nourishing – good choice."

"_Adequate_?" She thought, "_Adequate? I did go to some effort. I'd like to think it is more than adequate. Well, let's just get on with it._" "Yes, let me get lunch served up," she said more tartly than she had intended, and pulled a tray of sandwiches and the salad from the fridge.

"Can I help with anything?"

"Maybe get some glasses from the cupboard right there and pour the water for us both while I serve up the plates. It's still warm enough to dine outside. What do you think of eating out in the garden?" She nodded her head to the kitchen window which looked out over a small terrace bordered by a garden of flowers overflowing their beds. It was a riot of gold marigolds, blue asters, and rusty coloured chrysanthemums. A small table was set with two plain white plates resting on bright red placemats. A small bouquet containing some of the asters and a small spray of red roses rested in a delicate delft vase. It was quite charming. Martin couldn't help but be impressed with the effort she had made. "Good idea."

Holding the two glasses he had just pulled from the cupboard, he turned toward the door and held it for her as she carried the plates out to the terrace and then went back to fill the glasses with water. "Tap alright?"

"Yeah."

As he was carrying the glasses out to the terrace, she asked, "How are you finding Joan? Do you think she is doing well?"

"She seems healthy, but I wonder if she is having difficulty keeping up the farm. The house seems quite shabby. Of course it could have always been that way, and I don't remember. I was a child when I last spent any time there. I've been back once or twice, but only for short visits and I really didn't pay much attention to the state of the house."

"Most farmers here don't spend much keeping up the house. All their profits go back into running the farm. And a lot of them are in debt. Many end up selling their land to developers for holiday cottages. Pity really"

"Hmmmm," Martin thought he should ask his aunt about her finances. He wouldn't want her to lose the farm that she loved so much and that held such happy memories. He might be able to help her out

"So how has the start of school been this year?" Casual conversation was never his strong suit. During the past week, as he thought of possible topics of conversation, he had written them down and reviewed them before driving over to her cottage.

"Oh the usual. Some things never change and then some new and unusual problem pops up that you don't expect. There are always the new parents who are concerned that their little Johnny or Suzy is placed in the right class, and meeting with those parents can be time consuming. Then there are the parents who don't believe in childhood vaccinations. The rules are very clear that all children must be up to date on their jabs, but some parents always want you to make an exception for their child."

Martin exhaled loudly in indignation. "What is it with these parents who think that vaccinations are harmful? Do they have any idea how disabling or deadly some of these childhood illness were? Actually still are. If their child were to catch one of these illnesses and die, they would be the first ones screaming about how the NHS wasn't doing their job protecting the public health."

"Yes, we rarely see anyone with polio, or measles or chicken pox anymore so we have all forgotten how sick they can make the children"

"I haven't. We see several cases of measles each year, and if not properly treated in time, the children can lose their sight. Polio has almost been eradicated from the world, but cases still pop up in sub Saharan Africa. Our infectious disease specialists are always warning us to be on the lookout for any cases that might show up in a recent traveller. We don't want it on our shores."

He fell easily into lecture format when discussing the general public's failure to heed health recommendations. Although she found the topic interesting, Louisa was a little offended by his tone and stopped him right there, "Yes, well thank you. Good to know."

He fell silent for a moment, and then remembering his manners, Martin complimented Louisa on her meal, "These sandwiches are delicious, as is the salad. Thank you for such a wonderful healthy meal."

After the "adequate" statement, Louisa was surprised and sputtered a quiet "thank you" as she looked down at his plate, which was empty. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Perhaps a little more salad. I'll get it. Would you like some more water?"

They soon finished up, then cleared and washed the dishes.

After they finished the washing up, Martin blurted, "I need to pee."

"_No euphemisms for this man, just out with it_, she thought giggling silently to herself. "_Actually it's quite refreshing_,_ but I guess bodily functions are an ordinary topic for doctors_". Nodding her head toward the stairs, she told him, "Top of the stairs. You can't miss it."

When he returned, she headed up herself, and while she was up there, she grabbed a warm jacket from her wardrobe. "So are you ready to head out and get some fresh Cornish air?"

"_Am I ready to face the great unwashed?"_ He groaned inwardly. "You bet" he grunted.


	10. Chapter 10

They headed up to the car park at the top of the hill, Louisa trotting to keep up with Martin's long strides. While Martin changed, Louisa wandered over to the football pitch, where the village boys were playing a friendly match against the Delabole boys' team. She made her way over to where Maura, the school secretary was watching the game.

"Maura, how is the match going?

"Okay, we're ahead two goals, but it's early yet. I see you have a visitor, very nice if I must say so. Who is he and where did you find him?" Maura nodded in Martin's direction, as he walked over to join them. Louisa smiled and then turned toward Martin, and looking down at his shoes, nodded her approval even though it was obvious they'd barely been worn.

"Martin, this is Maura Hammett, the school secretary and a whirlwind of efficiency. I don't know what the school would do without her. Maura, this is Martin Ellingham, Joan Norton's nephew. He is here visiting for the weekend. I met him whilst I was in London this summer and offered to show him around the village."

Remember Joan's guidance, Martin mumbled, "Nice to meet you."

Louisa smiled and said "Maura's son Matt is one of our star players. So Maura, how is Matt doing today"

"Matt's doing very well today," Maura beamed proudly. "He's made two goals this afternoon. Of course he'll be impossible to live with if they win the match." Turning to Martin she greeted him, "Martin, it's nice to meet you too. I guess I never knew that Joan had a nephew. Where are you from?"

"London", Martin replied succinctly.

"Very different from Cornwall, I imagine. How are you finding us?"

"Just arrived; no opinion yet."

Several others joined Louisa, Martin and Maura, anxious to meet the tall stranger visiting Louisa. Many were surprised to discover that he was Joan Norton's nephew, and started to pepper him with questions, to which Martin quietly responded in his usual monosyllabic fashion. Several wanted to know how Louisa knew him. Why was she showing him around the village and not Joan? Louisa repeated her story of Holly's accident and meeting Martin in hospital several times as more and more villagers gathered around them. She could see that Martin was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the villagers seemed just as interested in him as the match on the pitch. She started to move away from the group, motioning for Martin to follow her. "Let's get going shall we?"

Suddenly Maura let out a whoop as her son Matt headed a shot away from the goal and another Portwenn player picked it up and dribbled it down to the Portwenn goal. Everyone cheered, everyone that is except Martin.

"Was that your son who just headed the ball?" Martin asked.

"Yeah, he's one of the best players our team has", she added with a smile and pride in her voice.

"And you think that hitting a fast flying ball with his head is a good thing?" Martin asked with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Yeah, he's really good at heading, does it five or six times during each match, and sometimes even gets a goal out it."

"Are you incredibly stupid?" he growled at her.

Both Louisa and Maura were totally taken aback that this newcomer to the village could be so rude and they stared at him unable to respond. "Martin?" Louisa looked at him with alarm.

Martin continued raising his voice, "Heading the ball is incredibly dangerous. You're an idiot for encouraging him."

Maura finally found her voice, "What are you talking about?" she shouted back at him. Louisa took a step back from both of them, embarrassed as others started to draw near.

In his most authoritative consultant's voice, Martin lectured, "Heading the ball can cause concussions and cumulative brain damage, especially in children whose neck and shoulder muscles aren't strong enough to position their heads to avoid injury. Significant cognitive declines have been documented in players who routinely head the ball. Children should never be allowed to use their heads as mallets."

"But players have been heading the ball for years, and no one has been hurt in the past." Maura argued back.

"Really? I can quote several studies that indicate otherwise. Does your son experience headaches after games?"

"Sometimes", Maura was starting to look concerned.

"A sign of concussion. You should have him evaluated by a neurologist, and stop him from heading the ball in the future. In fact, all the players should be barred from heading"

A crowd was starting to gather and worried that an unpleasant incident could develop, Louisa stepped in to defuse the situation, pointing out to Maura that Martin was a doctor and a surgeon and that he knew what he was talking about. Then thinking it would be best to get him off to a quiet place away from the villagers, she directed her attention to Martin, suggesting that they start their village tour, "Martin, let's head up to the school. I'd like you to see it and some of the children's work."

"Yes ... good." Martin was grateful to get away from the crowds; he was never comfortable in large crowds and he knew she was proud of her school.

As they walked away, they could hear shouts of "Tosser" bandied in their direction and he couldn't help but think that some things were constant whether in his dream or in real life. He scowled; he would not be cowed by some inbred village morons. Unconsciously he shook his head, straightened his already erect frame to stand even higher and then continued to walk just a step behind Louisa. They walked across the play area that led to the school doors and paused at the stone wall overlooking the harbour. He was surprised that the actual village was so similar to his dream. He and Aunty Joan frequently came into town when he was a child and it seemed that his memories were fairly accurate. More of the shops carried souvenir items for tourists than in his dream and he had not yet found the chemist's shop, but it all seemed familiar.

As much as he tried, he couldn't stop himself from staring at her. She was wearing her hair up in a ponytail like she did the evening he first saw her in A&E and he was entranced. She was speaking, something about this view taking her breath away despite seeing it every day. He just grunted his usual "hmmm". She turned to face him, and he quickly glanced back over the harbour, blushing, but she had noticed his gaze. _"What a curious man, so confident and out-spoken in some ways and yet ... so ... shy."_

She turned toward the school doors and asked him if he really thought heading was so dangerous, and he reiterated his concern, "Really Louisa, as a teacher, as head teacher, you should be aware of the dangers to a child's cognitive development whenever they experience a head injury. Let me put this as simply as possible: a fast moving football hitting a child's head will induce a shock to the brain causing it to bounce against the skull resulting in damage to brain tissue. It may be minor damage at first, but over time the damage accumulates. It is no different than hitting one's head in a fall or in a minor car accident. I can send you copies of studies discussing the dangers."

Despite his pompous tone which she found condescending, she understood he was trying to alert her to the dangers. "Oh…I hadn't really thought of it that way. Yes, I would like to see some of those studies; perhaps I can get the local football organizers to stop the practice. But, still you shouldn't have called Maura an idiot or stupid. That was rude and hurtful. She may have been ignorant of the dangers, but she is not stupid." She was embarrassed at his outburst even if he was right to be concerned.

He frowned. "Perhaps ... still, she **is** an idiot for encouraging her son."

Louisa was seeing another side of Martin, one she wasn't so sure she liked, but she had offered to show him around the village and she wasn't one to go back on her word. She unlocked the door to the school and started to wander through the halls, showing him the classrooms and some of the children's artwork on the walls. She opened the doors to the sunlit library telling him proudly how she had won a grant to more than double the number of books available and how she was applying for another grant to upgrade computer access, not only in the library but in each classroom. Eventually she hoped to fund laptop or tablet computers for each child in the school, but she feared that was still several years off.

He seemed impressed by all of her efforts and what she had accomplished over the short time she had been head teacher. He really didn't know much about primary school education, but nonetheless made an effort to ask an occasional question. He wanted her to know that he cared enough to try to learn more about her work, about which she seemed so passionate. "You really care for the students in your school, don't you?"

"Yes, each and every one. I want them all to reach their full potential."

"As do I. I care about all the future citizens of our country, which is why I don't want children damaging their brains by foolishly banging their heads against fast flying projectiles." Martin wasn't going to let his concern for the footballers rest.

"Ah, yes", Well he brought it up, so she waded back in, intent on letting him know how mortified she was by his outburst. She stood firm, legs slightly apart and looked him in the eye as she gently but emphatically admonished him. "You know, I appreciate your pointing out the dangers inherent in the game, but your shouting at my assistant and calling her an idiot just wasn't helpful. It was unkind, and in fact, I was embarrassed. I do live and work in this community and it felt like you were criticizing all of us, not just Maura."

As she chastised him, he stared at her with wide open eyes, once again struck by her beauty, and realized how his actions, his words, had hurt her. He remembered Aunty Joan's admonishment not to embarrass Louisa, and he was remorseful. He lowered his eyes and in a soft voice, almost a whisper, said, "Ah…perhaps I was a bit too forceful." He knew that he could come across as overbearing at times especially when he encountered people doing things that caused unnecessary injury, but he just couldn't seem to help himself. It was something he needed to work on, just as he had to work on it in his dream. But in his dream, Louisa would yell at him when she thought he was behaving badly, frequently marching off without explaining exactly why she was angry. The real Louisa stood up for herself, but was more soft spoken and gentle with him, and explained exactly where he went wrong. He understood and thought that, perhaps, they could become friends.


	11. Chapter 11

They left the school and wandered about the village. Louisa pointed out the various little tea shops, most of which were closed or had reduced their hours now that the summer season was coming to an end. Last weekend's Fisherman's festival marked the official end of the season with tourists filling the village enjoying the festivities, but now things were much quieter. The tourists were good for the economy, but the villagers were all glad when the season ended, when they were able to resume their slow-paced quiet life once again. They passed the pub which became the hub of village life in the off season, then they wandered by the chemist shop, the news and convenience store and the fish market, all of which remained open after the tourists left, although with reduced hours. Martin glanced into the chemist's shop and noticed the proprietor was an elderly gentleman. Mrs Tischell in his dream was very similar to the outgoing woman who manned the register in a chemists around the corner from his London flat and he was certain she would not be here in Portwenn, but stranger things had happened.

As they walked up Rosscarrock Hill, they passed the cottage which had been the surgery when he was a child and which had figured prominently in his dream. Martin commented on it, "This was where Dr. Sims had his surgery when I was a boy."

"Dr. Sims passed away a few years ago. The new doctor moved the surgery up the hill to a more modern building in a location with easier access and more parking. The new owners turned this into a holiday cottage. Pity really, one more cottage unavailable for permanent residents."

"Do you mind if we stop here on the terrace and look out onto the harbour?" Martin wanted to relive the many moments of his dream when he stood at this very spot staring over to his dream Louisa's cottage and school.

"Of course not. I doubt there's anyone inside who would mind. The view from here is beautiful isn't it?" They paused for a few moments and enjoyed the view of the harbour and the sea beyond. A fishing boat made its way into the harbour and started to unload its catch while the gulls swarmed the boat hoping for a catch of their own.

"It's unfortunate the new doctor is away from the village this weekend or I'd introduce you. His name is Michael O'Leary. He's quite nice and a very good doctor."

The way Louisa praised this Dr. O'Leary made Martin instantly dislike him. "Irish?"

"No, American."

"Even worse."

"No, he has excellent credentials. He moved here with his fiancé almost two years ago when she got a position with North Cornwall Polytechnic. Unfortunately they split up shortly after they arrived, but his contract with the NHS was for three years. He'll be moving back to America next November and we will have to find a new doctor then. The village will miss him; he's become an integral part of our community."

"Humph," Martin was not impressed. It sounded to him as though Louisa was too fond of this Michael O'Leary, not that it was really any of his business. Perhaps she was one of those women who are attracted to doctors. He'd be somewhat disappointed to discover that she was. Of course, he consoled himself, not many well educated men in this part of Cornwall. Still...

They left the landing in front of the old surgery and Louisa shifted the bag she was carrying. Noticing her sag slightly while shifting the bag, Martin asked, "That looks heavy; can I carry it for you?"

"It's not too heavy, just some tea and snacks in case we get peckish: cheese, crackers and apple. But yes, it would be nice if you could take it for a while" and she handed the bag over to him and he slung it over his shoulder. It was heavier than she had intimated and he wished he had offered to carry it earlier.

As they walked on, Louisa motioned for them to take the coastal path where it began at the end of the road. "I just love walking along this path, close to the sea. You can hear the thunder of the waves crashing against the rocks, the seagulls squealing overhead. It all feels so primitive and makes me feel alive." She laughed and let the sheer joy of the moment wash over her over as she spread her arms, looked up to the sky, twirled, and grinned at him. Her joy was contagious and he couldn't help smiling back at her. It was a beautiful day, and he was spending the day alone with a beautiful woman who seemed to be happy being with him. Once again he felt himself falling under her spell, yearning for her to be part of his life.

As she turned to continue on up the trail, she stumbled and fell. Martin rushed to help her up, but she held up her hand. "Just give me a second; sometimes I get a little dizzy; I shouldn't spin around like I just did, but out here near the ocean, I just can't help myself sometimes."

She held out her hand and Martin helped her to her feet. "Have you discussed it with your GP? Perhaps you suffer from vertigo."

"It doesn't happen very often, and I never remember to mention it when I go in. I'm fine. Let's keep going", she cried and ran ahead on the trail. Looking back, she yelled at him, "Keep up. Take longer strides." He quickened his pace and was next to her in a moment. She laughed and ran on ahead. He quickly followed, although he decided he'd better keep an eye on her nevertheless.

They continued on the trail until they came to a particularly spectacular spot with several large rocks suitable for resting. "Why don't we stop and take a break?" she suggested. Martin was open to pretty much anything she might suggest, even sitting on what were likely unsanitary rocks. It seemed to him a magical day. It reminded him of picnics near the sea with his Aunty Joan when he was little.

He removed the bag from his shoulders and set it on the rock ledge between them. Louisa opened it and removed the tea thermos and two paper cups along with a bag of crackers, some cheese and two apples with a knife and paper plate for serving them up. It had been a few hours since they had eaten lunch and they were both hungry. It seemed the fresh air and exercise had sharpened their appetites. And they tucked in hungrily.

Suddenly Louisa whispered, "Look, overhead, a group of cranes…aren't they beautiful?" Sure enough there they were heading south over the sea cliffs. "Yes", he replied as he gazed over at her. She turned to smile at him and caught him looking at her with adoration before he was able to straighten his expression and look up once again at the cranes as they flew off.

They continued to gaze out at the sea watching the waves come in and out, crashing against the rocks and then retreating, only to repeat the action over and over. Martin commented, "It's so calming sitting here watching the sea, so far from the obligations of everyday life."

"Yes," she agreed. "It's a refuge for me when the demands of the teachers and parents become too much. Do you have any place in London where you can go to refresh your soul?"

'No, not like this. There are the parks, but often they are crowded and noisy, except in the early morning. I sometimes walk through the park near my flat on my way to work to help prepare myself for the day's procedures, but it's nothing like this."

"Ah…..Louisa." He wanted to tell her something, but he wasn't sure how to say it.

"Yes?"

"Ah…I've been thinking ... um ... I know that I can be ... um ... blunt sometimes." Martin was rarely at a loss for words, and apologies were not something he was accustomed to making, but he wanted to make sure she knew he wasn't criticising her earlier.

"Yes?" She could see that he was struggling with something.

"I get angry when I see people harming themselves and I feel compelled to say something. I know that I can be tactless sometimes. I'm sorry I embarrassed you back at the football pitch. I didn't intend to humiliate you."

She noticed the earnestness in his face and accepted that he wanted to make amends. She lowered her eyes then smiled directly at him. "Apology accepted. I've forgotten already. That's what watching the sea will do for you."

"No, I mean it. I would like to be your friend.

"I would like that too," she replied.

He was silent for a few minutes whilst they sipped on tea and finished their snack. In and out, the waves rhythmically broke against the rocks, lulling them both. Louisa leaned back, closed her eyes and turned her face toward the lowering sun. Martin found himself deep in thought and glanced at her from time to time. He had to keep reminding himself that she wasn't his dream woman. She said she wanted to be his friend, but would she feel that way once she really got to know him? Perhaps he should explain. Looking down at the sea, he quietly said, "I've been told that I'm a difficult person. I mean well, but I can seem gruff or rude when I just want to help. I say what I think, especially when I see people doing foolish things. Being genial and charming isn't my first thought."

He thought back to _dream Louisa_'s signal for him to collect himself, sometimes it was just a look or a slight touch of her hand on his sleeve or chest. Would it be appropriate for him to ask her to use the same techniques or would that be too familiar? He decided that it would be inappropriate to ask someone he barely knew to help him in that way.

He just looked at her lost as to what he should say next. She saw the expression in his eyes and had an idea. "Tell you what. If I think you are starting to 'misbehave', (and here she made air quotes with her fingers), I'll give you the same look I sometimes give my students, my 'shape up or it's detention for you look'"

"A look?" He wasn't sure what she meant.

"Yes, a look… like this," and frowning, she gave him a stern look with her eyes wide open and raised her eyebrows.

"Oh" He was familiar with that look from his days at public school. It was usually followed by a caning or some other form of punishment. But he didn't think she would go that far with him. It was funny how she came up with that idea. It was almost like she read his mind. "Okay, but no detention" he said as a slight grin played around his lips.

She laughed, "Well only if you shape up." This was almost fun. Was he flirting with her? She wasn't sure.

"Thank you." He was serious again. He looked back out to sea. "I almost hate to leave this spot. It's so tranquil. Thank you for spending the day with me. It reminds me of times I spent wandering the cliffs near Auntie Joan's farm when I was a boy, the happy times of my childhood."

The sun was getting low in the sky and they decided it was time to walk back to the village; they didn't want to be caught on the coastal path after dark. Louisa suggested they drop by the pub for a drink and perhaps a light dinner. Martin scowled at this suggestion thinking it likely that it would be crowded and noisy, but Louisa assured him that it was early yet and not likely to be crowded. As they neared the village, Martin cried out, "Oh god, not again!"

"What? What's the matter?"

"Damned dog faeces again, all over my shoe." He stomped over to the side of the path and began wiping his shoe against some gorse growing along the edge.

Louisa had to stifle a giggle. They were becoming friends, but she didn't think they were at the stage where she could laugh at him, not just yet. She took the bag from him and rummaged around until she found the sanitizing wipes she had brought for cleaning their hands before their snack. "Here, take these. You can use them to clean off your shoe."

Glancing up, he took the offered wipes and began vigorously cleaning the offending paste from his shoe, all the while ranting, "Stupid animals, dogs: smelly disgusting animals leaving their excrement just anywhere they like…"

"_Okay, enough_" Louisa thought to herself and she leaned over so she could look him in the face and gave him "the look".

"What...What?" And then the penny dropped. She was giving him "the look". Confused he looked up to his left and then to his right. Seeing no one else nearby, he sputtered, "But there's no one else around, just you and me."

"True", she replied, "But aren't you overreacting just a little bit? It's only a little dog poo. It's not the end of the world. Just clean it off and move on. There's really no need to get so upset…not good for your blood pressure, is it…doctor? Here, put the dirty wipes in this bag; we don't want to litter the path do we?"

"No". Still frowning, he took the plastic bag she offered and dropped in the wipes as he soiled them. Soon enough his boot was spotless which was a good thing because they were out of wipes.

They continued on until they reached the road. As they approached the old surgery, Martin stopped and strode up the steps. "Come here," he said. She went over and he took her shoulders and turned her toward the sea. "Look". The sun was just setting on the horizon, the sea a dark blue and the sky streaked with vibrant pinks, purples and golds. They stood there together in awe at Mother Nature's artwork. Eventually the sun set, the show was over and it was time to continue on. But neither of them was ready to move. He had clasped his hands behind his back, but Louisa was still standing just in front of him, not quite touching him but close enough for him to feel her presence and take in her scent and she could sense his presence behind her; they both realized the chemistry between them though neither acknowledged it out loud.

"We should go on; it's getting dark," Martin softly offered. "Yes," she replied. They reluctantly left the landing and slowly walked down to the pub, each lost in thought.

It was early and only a few tables were taken. Several older fishermen were still at the bar finishing their pints before heading to their respective homes. The younger crowd wouldn't begin straggling in for another hour or two. Louisa ordered a glass of white wine and Martin a glass of bottled water and they found a table in a quiet corner.

"The fish here is usually quite good, just off the boats and simply prepared, grilled or broiled. Of course you can order it deep fried as well, a fish and chip plate..."

"Humph, yes, clogging my arteries with Trans fats and grease is just what I'd like," Martin replied sarcastically. "Imagine it keeps your friend, the local GP in business though." He glanced down at the menu, "Grilled sounds good. Maybe a salad or some fresh vegetables as well?"

"Sounds perfect". She raised her hand and the waitress came over to take their order, bringing with her a basket of rolls and bread. As soon as the waitress left with their order, Louisa took one of their special dinner rolls, broke off a piece, buttered it and popped it into her mouth. "Um umm, I am hungrier than I thought. These rolls are really delicious, made fresh everyday in the kitchen here."

Martin was sceptical and gave her a questioning look, "White flour and butter, not a healthy combination."

"Maybe not, but occasionally, as a treat? They are really delicious; try one."

He took one, broke off a piece and ate. "This is good." With one more bite, he finished it off, and then took another.

"So, what are your plans for tomorrow?"

"I'm taking Auntie Joan to brunch. Would you care to join us?" He asked with a slight smile and questioning look.

"Oh, I couldn't do that. I've taken up enough of your time here. I'm sure she wants some time with you all to herself. I got the impression that she is very fond of you with many happy memories of the times you spent on her farm when you were a boy."

"Yes, I guess that would be best. I'm not leaving until early Monday morning." He hesitated a moment, then suggested, "Perhaps I could take you out to dinner tomorrow evening." He had enjoyed her company today so much that he wanted to see her again before he left.

"I have a better idea. Maybe you could come over to my house for an early supper", she offered.

'I have an even better idea. I could bring over some vegetables and maybe some fish and cook dinner for you." He had noticed many different spices in her pantry and was pretty sure he could prepare a flavourful meal for her. "Oh, but you said you have to spend Sunday evening preparing for the week's classes."

"Oh!" She looked at him in surprise. "You would cook for me? That would be nice. But I have an even better idea." She giggled; it was as if they were trying to outdo each other. "Why don't we prepare supper together? It could be fun. And don't worry; I can do my week's preparation in the afternoon before you get there."

"I'd like that. What time should I arrive?"

"We will need time to prepare everything and cook it. Why don't you come around 5:30 or 6:00? You can bring the fish and fresh vegetables? I'll get some greens for salad and some fresh bread."

"Yes."

"It's a date."

"Yes."


	12. Chapter 12

Martin pulled into the car park and once again unfolded himself from the rental along with several bags of groceries and the apple pie Aunty Joan insisted that he take. He and his aunt had had a very nice brunch and visit earlier in the day, and now he was looking forward to spending the evening with Louisa. Aunty Joan had been very curious about his day with Louisa, especially since she had heard about the incident at the football pitch. News of his identity and his comments on playing techniques had reached her within minutes after they had left the field. She insisted on telling him how several of the villagers had called her to tell her about meeting him, and how several more couldn't wait to tell her about the scene he caused. Not only had he embarrassed Louisa, but evidently he had mortified Aunty Joan as well. "Louisa accepted my apology for shouting, and I hope you will also, but I was right to call them on it. No child should be banging his head against a flying football."

"Oh Marty, I am sure you are right, but there are better ways to let people know about the problem than by yelling at them, or calling them stupid." She sighed, knowing he wouldn't change. "Oh well, what's done is done". It was time to learn more about his afternoon and evening with Louisa. Probing to find out what Martin thought about her, she changed the subject. "So how was your afternoon with Louisa? Other than the football pitch where did you go?"

He answered matter-of-factly. "She showed me around her school and then through the lower part of the village near the Platt. We walked the path along the sea, and then had supper at the pub. Very pleasant day."

"The pub wasn't too raucous for you then? What do you think of Louisa?" Joan was couldn't contain her curiosity, desperate to know if Martin was interested. She would love for him to find someone as caring as Louisa with whom to share his life. She was more than willing to push him to think of her that way.

"Pub was fine; not too crowded; food was adequate." He paused a moment mulling over his Aunt's question. "What do you mean about Louisa? What should I think of her?" There was something in the way his aunt asked that confused him.

"I mean do you find her attractive, interesting to talk with? I'm not sure that you and she would have much in common. Will you see her again?"

"I can't really remember what we discussed ... hmm ... the village, the sea, her school, and my summers here with you when I was young…that sort of thing. And yes, we are getting together at her house tonight. I offered to cook her supper. Do you think I could take a few vegetables from your garden? And I offered to bring some fish. Where is the best place to buy fish this afternoon?"

Martin had moved much faster than Joan had ever thought he would. She had the sudden thought that he might be a womanizer just like his Dad, and just as quickly she dismissed it. She refused to even consider that he could have turned out that way. "I take it that you are interested in her".

Martin blushed at his aunt's implication, and replied indignantly, "Aunty Joan! I hardly know her. She invited me for dinner and I thought it would be impolite to refuse."

Joan chuckled and sighed in relief; in some ways he was still the very proper little boy that she remembered from years ago. _"No", _she thought_, "very unlikely that he's the cad his father was, or may still be._" "Yes, very mannerly of you to accept. You do realize that you are spending more time with her this weekend than you are with me."

He hadn't thought about it, but Aunty Joan was right. He had come down to spend the weekend with her, his beloved aunt, and here he was spending time with someone he barely knew rather than getting reacquainted with Joan. Remorsefully he admitted, "Yes you are right. I will call her and cancel tonight's plans. The main purpose of my trip was to visit with you."

"You will do no such thing! I couldn't be happier that you are friends with Louisa. She is a wonderful, warm, caring woman. I hope you can be friends"

"Yes, she is. You know…," He paused, not certain how to ask what he wanted to know without alerting his aunt to his true feelings, feelings he still hadn't completely admitted to himself, "You know, um ... I am surprised that she isn't married. Too devoted to her school perhaps?"

'No. I don't think that's it. She was married once, to her childhood sweetheart. It didn't last. They divorced. Oh, it must be almost ten years ago."

"Why?"

"Well you'll have to ask Louisa that, won't you? I don't know everything."

"Hmm."

Now that he had told his aunt about his day with Louisa, he felt free to discuss what was really on his mind. "Aunty Joan, I couldn't help noticing how run down the house is. There is no reliable hot water, the paint is peeling off the walls, and the stairs are unstable. I'd like to help you make some repairs."

"Marty, it's sweet of you to offer, but you'd hardly have the time, even if you came down every weekend. I didn't know you were a handyman as well as a renowned surgeon."

"Of course I'm not. I wouldn't make the repairs myself. I'd hire someone and pay them to do it."

She shook her head vigorously. "No, no, no. I couldn't accept your money."

Martin exhaled in exasperation. "Really, what else am I going to do with it? They pay me much more than I need for my simple lifestyle. I have to invest it somewhere. Actually fixing up the farmhouse might be a good investment. I had forgotten how peaceful Cornwall is. I wouldn't mind spending more time down here. It would be a tranquil spot to work on my research papers, but I'd like to be comfortable whilst I am here. Of course I could always spend my money staying at a hotel if you'd rather."

Joan admitted that she'd rather he didn't spend his money at a hotel. She would love to have him visit more regularly and stay with her. That afternoon when they returned from the restaurant, they walked around the house and Martin made a note of what needed fixing. As they walked, he began to think of other improvements that could be made to make it a comfortable family holiday home, not that it was likely he would ever have a family. Although ... in the back of his mind, absurd as he knew it was, he could see himself and Louisa spending holidays here with their family. With a shake of his head, he sent that thought packing. No matter what turn his life took, fixing up the farm house would be a good investment, a comfortable home for his Aunt's remaining years and later on, a valuable rental property in the summer high season.


	13. Chapter 13

He knocked on Louisa's door and waited. He shifted his bags and knocked again, but still no answer. He was beginning to think he had misunderstood the time when she finally opened the door. "Sorry, I was in the back working in the garden and had to turn off the water and then…" She paused a moment out of breath, and smiled at him. "Well, anyway I'm glad you're still here. Come in please"

He nodded and smiled back. "It's okay. I brought some fish and vegetables. Aunty Joan sent a pie."

"Oh it looks delicious." And, she thought to herself as she quickly scanned him from head to toe, "_So do you_." Martin was attired in a beautiful suit, dress shirt with French cuffs, just as she remembered him when she first saw him waiting for her in the hospital lobby, attire which was perfect for an evening in a posh London restaurant, but not necessarily for an evening cooking in her kitchen. "Let me take your jacket. We don't want you soiling your lovely suit."

She had taken great care with her outfit for the evening as well. She wanted something feminine and alluring, something to pique his interest, but not too overtly sexy. She opted for jeans with a snug dark rose knit top, cut low enough to show a hint of cleavage, along with a matching knit cardigan. If he had noticed, he gave no indication to her, which she found disappointing. Most men she had dated would have made some kind of appreciative or complimentary comment, but Martin hadn't seemed to notice.

But he had noticed her appearance, finding her stunning as always, but he didn't think it was proper to comment on it at this stage in their acquaintance. He unbuttoned his jacket and hung it on the hanger she offered and followed her into the kitchen. She started to empty the bags he brought. "So let's take a look at what we have here. Have you thought about how you want to prepare everything?"

Martin had been thinking about their meal on the way over. The day before, he had noticed many different spices and herbs in her pantry that could be used in some interesting dishes; but not knowing how well he and Louisa would work together and given the fact that they were still getting to know each other, he thought it best to keep the preparation easy. "I was thinking that we should keep it simple. Perhaps bake or broil the fish with a light glaze and then cut up and roast the vegetables with a light drizzle of olive oil seasoned with salt and pepper."

She agreed and offered to make the glaze for the fish if he could chop up the vegetables. She had already prepared a salad for their first course which they could eat while the fish and vegetables were cooking.

She handed him an apron and a cutting board and let him select a knife to use. He was impressed with how well her kitchen was equipped. High quality pots and pans, a good variety of sharp knives and other tools, everything that a good cook might need to prepare a gourmet meal. "Do you cook often? I notice that your kitchen is much better equipped than average."

"Well, yes. I love to have people over and cook for them. I'm always looking for new recipes and new ways of preparing meals."

"Do you have any favourite cuisines?"

"Well…. I started with Julia Child's "Mastering the art of French Cooking" back in my early twenties, and then tried my hand at Mexican, New Mexican actually, and then Indian. Right now I am experimenting with Thai cooking."

A brilliant beautiful woman who loves to cook; if he had been a confident flirter, he would have said, "I think I love you." Instead he said, "Umm ... I enjoy cooking myself, although I tend to simpler preparations. Have you ever tried Japanese cuisine, sushi or sashimi?"

"No, I haven't tried that yet. Perhaps you could teach me?"

"Yes, I'd like that, and … perhaps I could try some Thai recipes myself. Do you have any that you find particularly worth sharing?"

"The glaze I'm preparing for the fish is Thai based. Here's the recipe. Take a look and tell me what you think."

They continued to talk food preparation while they finished up the fish and vegetables, delighted that they had found a common interest. Louisa served up the salad while the rest of the meal was cooking. "Just a simple greens and vinaigrette I'm afraid, nothing fancy."

"Perfect." Martin was enjoying himself immensely and even found himself smiling when he discovered she was partial to extra pepper on her food just like he was. "Don't stint on the pepper on my account" were her exact words. Louisa opened the bottle of white wine Martin had brought, carried two glasses over to the table and started to pour the wine. "This is such a good wine Martin; it will go beautifully with the fish and vegetables." Martin held out his hand. "I hope you will like it, but none for me, thank you."

"Really? Do you not drink, Martin?" She remembered that he had not ordered any wine when they had dinner together in London.

"No, it puts me to sleep, so I find it's better to avoid alcohol."

"What a shame. Not even a taste?"

"Perhaps."

She poured a few sips into his glass and then raised her glass to his, "Here's to a lovely evening and new friends."

He touched her glass with his and looking at her lovely face, agreed, "Yes".

"_Yes_", that seemed to be the word he used to indicate a positive response, Louisa thought. Yes I like it; yes it's good; yes I agree; yes you are correct; yes seemed to be the answer to most any question. Well, she thought, "_in class to get a student to open up, we ask an open ended question_". How was your brunch with Joan?"

"Good."

Inwardly Louisa groaned. "_Good ... yes; I may call him Mr. monosyllabic. Okay Louisa that wasn't really open-ended enough._" "Anything special on offer?"

"A buffet: good selection of meats and fish, eggs, pastries, fruits, potatoes, puddings, sweets. I was able to put together a healthy meal and Joan enjoyed a little bit of everything there. Despite the healthy vegetables and chickens that she grows on her farm, she does not have the best diet. I worry that she may have coronary heart disease and could be a candidate for an MI."

"A what?"

"Myocardial infarction, a heart attack."

"Can it be prevented?"

"Often it can, but she needs to change her diet and shift some weight; it's always difficult to change lifetime habits. She probably gets plenty of exercise running her farm, but I know she has more stress than is good for her heart. I talked with her about my helping to fix up the house and I have been thinking I may be able to do more to help her financially. She hasn't said anything, but I worry she may be struggling."

She had finally got him talking. It was nice to know that he cared enough to help Joan out. This was a side of him that she wanted to know better, the non-medical side of him, Martin the man. Now to keep him talking, "What needs to be done with the house?"

"The basics at first. Needs a new boiler. Actually all the plumbing needs to be replaced or repaired: the bathroom needs new fixtures and the kitchen plumbing and appliances need to be replaced. The whole house needs to be painted and the stairs are unstable." He paused, "I could go on and on."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

"Yes, and the more I think about it, the more I can see things that I would like to change."

Just then the timer went off. Martin jumped up to check on the fish and vegetables while Louisa carried in the used salad plates and placed them in the sink. Martin started to serve up the meal and Louisa poured some water in glasses and carried them to the table.

As they sat back down, Louisa brought the conversation back to Joan's farm. "You were saying that there are several things you would like to change at Joan's house."

"Yes. Umm…. I'd like to come down more often, keep an eye on her so to speak. It would be more comfortable for me if I had more privacy, perhaps an en-suite bathroom, maybe a sitting room next to the bedroom. There are five bedrooms upstairs with only one bath. I think we could easily convert one of the smaller bedrooms to a bath and sitting room. That sort of thing."

"Wouldn't that get expensive?"

"Could be, but I will inherit the farm when Joan dies, so it would make for a good investment in the long run."

"So you would sell it when Joan dies?"

"Perhaps. Or keep it for a holiday home if I should have a family or to let in the summers."

"Family? I would have thought you were a confirmed bachelor, devoted to your career. Do you plan to have a family?"

"_Why would she think I was a confirmed bachelor? Although I suppose I was until a few months ago, until I met her_" he thought to himself as he looked at her curiously. He pondered whether he should open up. So far they had managed to keep the conversation impersonal. "Up until recently, I have been focused on my career, but now that I am established, I have been thinking about other possibilities, perhaps a family." Then with a wry semi-smile and an attempt at a chuckle, which came out more as a "humph", he added, "But first things first; have to find the right woman." He tried to make this last sentence seem light-hearted, but wasn't sure he got the tone quite right.

"_Funny_," she thought. "_That's what I told Joan just a few weeks ago. I have to find the right man_."

She returned the same wry half-smile, "I know what you mean. It can be difficult to find the right person."

"Yes."

Again with the 'yes' she thought. So far they had had a companionable evening with few lulls in the conversation, but now an uncomfortable silence descended over the table. Louisa poured herself another glass of wine.

Martin fidgeted in his seat. "The glaze on this fish is quite good. Would you give me a copy of the recipe?"

"Certainly. I can e-mail it to you next week." Louisa took another sip of her wine. "This really is good wine. Thank you for bringing it. I wish you could enjoy a few more sips."

"I'm fine." He took another sip, then shifted in his seat, and the uncomfortable silence descended once more.

Looking down at his plate as he placed another piece of fish on his fork, he commented, 'Ahmm…I am surprised that you are not married with children by now. Are Cornish men idiots?"

"Idiots? That's not very nice Martin," and she gave him the 'look'.

"No, no. I didn't mean it that way. I would think there would have been many men who would have wanted to settle down with you."

"Well I was married once… to a Cornish man, but it didn't work out."

"I'm sorry."

"We were childhood sweethearts; got married right after college, but we were way too young and he just wasn't ready for monogamy. We lived in London whilst he was in law school; long nights studying and 'relaxing' at the pub afterwards with beautiful fellow law students was just too tempting. We divorced before the first year was out and I moved back to a teaching job at Portwenn Primary; been here ever since."

"Did he come back to the village also?"

"No. He stayed in London where he works as a solicitor. Very successful and just got engaged, maybe married by now. I saw him with some other friends whilst I was in London last summer…just after I met you in fact."

"And yes, I've had my fair share of 'admirers', but none of them has been right. So now that we are sharing, what about you? Ever been married?"

"No. Engaged once….in medical school. Didn't work out; she went abroad for her career."

"No one else since then?"

"No one serious."

"Hmmm. Not easy is it?"

"No." He lowered his eyes and looked away. The thought of Edith's persistence in re-establishing their relationship was disturbing and he certainly did not need to discuss it with Louisa.

Martin rose to clear the table and wash up. Louisa grabbed a tea towel and dried as he washed. He was just finishing up when he felt something brush against his leg. He startled and looked down to see a fat calico cat rubbing against his leg and purring. He jumped away dropping the fish pan into the sink as he shook his leg shouting, "Go away! Go away!"

"Oh Lizzie, shame on you. You frightened Martin." cooed Louisa as she scooped her pet cat into her arms. She carried her over to Martin who was trying to fade into the wall and scolded Lizzie," Martin, this is Miss Elizabeth; I named her for Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine of _Pride and Prejudice_, but I call her Lizzie for short. Now Lizzie, apologize to Martin. You frightened him."

"_A cat. God I hate cats. Why does she have to have a cat?_" Martin couldn't hide his disgust, scowling and declaring in no uncertain terms, "I hate cats, sneaky, filthy animals."

"Lizzie's not sneaky or filthy, are you sweetie? We'll just have to be extra nice to Martin, won't we? And show him just how nice kitties can be."

"Humph" Martin was not going to be easily swayed, but Louisa just smiled at him and then put Lizzie back down onto the floor, where Lizzie went right back to rubbing up against Martin's leg, "Can't you get it to stop that?"

"She is just trying to get to know you. I'm surprised that she has come out of hiding so quickly. It usually takes her much longer to make friends with anyone new." She looked down at Lizzie and then up at Martin, adding, "She must see something special in you. Take it as a compliment."

"Humph. I'm more comfortable with insults!"

Louisa put the kettle on and now that Lizzie had retreated to her special bed in front of the radiator, Martin cut two small pieces of Aunty Joan's pie and they retired to the lounge. Louisa put on some smooth jazz and they enjoyed Joan's pie whilst they talked of their plans for the next week. In addition to his routine surgical procedures and patient consultations, Martin was working on a paper to present to a conference in several months and he briefly discussed the results of his research. Louisa needed to meet with parents to finalise the plans for the fall festival to take place in two weeks time and to start planning the Christmas pageant. All that was in addition to her routine supervision of classes, preparation of applications for several grants and teaching a few classes herself each week. Both were quite busy.

"Do you think you will get back to Cornwall anytime soon?" Louisa was hoping he would. She found she enjoyed his quiet company, so different from the type of man she usually found attractive.

"I plan to get back down as soon as I can find an architect or contractor to plan the work on my Aunt's house. Perhaps we could get together again when I get back down."

"Oh yes. I would like that. We could cook Thai."

He nodded his head as a shy smile crossed his lips and he replied, "Yes, good"

"Yes, good." Louisa echoed happily and thought as she smiled to herself, "_Yes. Good. He's rubbing off on me"_.

**Merry Christmas to all the readers and writers in our wonderful Doc Martin fan fiction world. I wish all of you and your families and friends a very happy joyous holiday. **_**Just a Glimpse**_** will return in the New Year.**


	14. Chapter 14

**To my readers, I had intended to post early in the New Year, but real life has become a little too real lately. I hope to start posting more regularly. I hope everyone had a good holiday and wish you all the best for 2015**

It was late, almost 9:30 when Martin got back to the farm. Joan had already gone to bed. He changed out of his suit and into his nightclothes and readied himself for bed, all the while thinking back on his evening. He couldn't remember when he had had such an enjoyable evening, or weekend for that matter. He slept well and was up early in plenty of time to enjoy a hearty breakfast and say good-bye to his Aunt.

Aunty Joan on the other hand, had not heard him come in and had let her imagination wander far and wide over all the possible outcomes of his dinner with Louisa. She noticed his car in the yard and surmised that he had not spent the night at Louisa's, but that didn't mean that nothing had happened. She wasn't sure if she wanted anything to happen just yet; she really didn't want to think he might be like his father, but part of her couldn't help hoping for a connection between her nephew and the lonely school headmistress. She was out tending to her chickens when he came out of the house carrying his overnight bag. "Good morning Marty," she called out. "How was your evening? You were out late."

"Good morning. It was enjoyable, and not that late." He strode over to the chicken pen. "How are you this morning? I've an early train to catch, but have some time to join you at breakfast. Can I boil some eggs and prepare some toast and tea for us both?"

"That would be lovely"

"Oh….and Louisa thanks you for the pie. I left it with her if that is alright. She will return the pie plate later on."

A few minutes later, she joined him for breakfast. It was so nice to have someone look after her for a change. He confirmed that she was still agreeable to his helping her out with some house maintenance and discussed how he planned to go about finding a contractor and what a possible timetable might look like.

He left shortly after washing up the breakfast things and arrived at the station with plenty of time to catch his train. Before settling in with his BMJ for the long trip back, he made up a list of things to do once he arrived…his Portwenn projects, as it were: Studies relating to traumatic brain injury resulting from football headers for Louisa; a call to Chris Parsons for the name of an architect or contractor to help with the work on Aunty Joan's farm, and a list of the repairs and improvements he had in mind. Perhaps he could check with Louisa for the names of contractors as well; he was already looking forward to a return trip to Cornwall as an excuse to see her.

He also needed to ask his Aunt about any liens on the farm; he knew she and his father had received the farm clear of debt when their uncle Dick had left it to them, but he had no idea if Joan or Phil had taken out any mortgages since then. His father could be a hurdle as well. Even though he had never shown any interest in the farm, Martin didn't know if he had ever legally relinquished his share of the ownership to Joan. If he hadn't, complications could arise at Joan's death or even beforehand. He remembered his dream and his parent's visit when Dad demanded payment for his share of the farm; his father could complicate things in real life as well. And if his father died and left his half of the farm to Martin's mother, Martin was certain that she would want to sell and get her hands on the money whether she needed it or not. That would break Joan's heart.

The more he thought about it, the more complicated his "Portwenn project" began to look. Being the pragmatic soul he was, he decided it was best to clear up the legal situation now before starting the renovations. So he added another item to his list: call Mr. Graves, his solicitor, and get an opinion on ownership. Other renovations could wait on the legalities, but not the new boiler. If he were to spend any more time in Cornwall, he wanted a new boiler installed as soon as possible; he wasn't looking forward to any more cold showers.

Once back in the office that afternoon, he quickly scanned his list for the next day to ensure there would be no time-consuming research required for any of the procedures scheduled. He checked in with his new admin assistant, Ms. Newcross. Despite her young age and flamboyant style, she was extremely competent. She was the granddaughter of one of his older colleagues and he had hired her on a trial basis as a favour when it became apparent that his long-time assistant, Mrs. Poustie was no longer up to the job. To his surprise, she had settled right in, knowing just what he wanted when he wanted it, sometimes even before he knew he needed whatever it was. It was almost eerie, as if she could read his mind at times….and she never flinched when he was in one of his rages. He only lost his temper when others were incompetent so his anger was rarely aimed at her. All in all it was working out well.

"Ms. Newcross, I need you to find some studies on the effects of heading footballs on cognitive ability, especially in children and adolescents. Get them to me by Wednesday afternoon at the latest. And I'd like one or two of them to be comprehensible to the general public."

Next he called his old friend, Chris Parsons, head of the PCT at the Royal Cornwall in Truro. He knew that Chris and his wife Michelle had completely renovated an old farm house several years ago and could point him in the direction of a good architect and contractor. Chris was surprised as well as pleased to hear from him and was able to give him the name of several people with whom he had worked on his renovation, all of whom he thought Martin would find more than competent.

Chris then mentioned the annual holiday party he and Michelle hosted each year and asked Martin to put it on his calendar. If Mart was to be in Cornwall perhaps he could join them this year. Martin didn't have many close friends so he tried to attend this party every other year or so, and promised to make an effort to see them this year. He even thought he might ask Louisa to join him if things went well during his November visit. They seemed to get along quite amiably over the recent weekend, although her cat could prove to be a problem. Ah, her cat. He made a note to pick up a copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ on his way home. Why would she name an animal after a character in a book?

He then put in a call to Mr. Graves, his solicitor outlining his plans for his Aunt's renovation and possible ownership entanglements. Graves immediately understood the problem and promised to look into the legal ramifications. But first, Martin had to clarify with his aunt the terms of current ownership. Did she own the property outright or did Martin's father retain half ownership in the property. Was there any written or even verbal agreement whereby his father had relinquished his share? Had Martin's father ever taken any interest in the farm, had he spent any time there, that sort of thing? Once the facts were known, they could plan a strategy to best protect both his Aunt's ownership and Martin's future investment, as well as minimize any possible future inheritance taxes that might come due based on the increased value of the farm arising from Martin's investment. He thought to himself that a good lawyer was worth every penny he paid in fees.


	15. Chapter 15

As head teacher, Louisa's weeks were always busy and the month following Martin's visit was no exception. She frequently had to meet with parents to discuss student problems, either behavioural or academic, and she tried to schedule most of them Monday evenings in order to implement any necessary remedial steps over the course of the week. The Monday after Martin's visit was no exception. She had four meetings scheduled and had to fend off questions about Martin with each set of parents. Why was he in the village, how did she know him, how long had she known him, why did she show him about the village and not Joan, what did they talk about, had she and Doc Mike broken up? She offered polite but brief answers to their curious questions and then moved the discussion back to the children, but they, the mothers in particular, were much more interested in her relationship with Martin. After the first mum cautioned her about stringing two men along at the same time, and the second one made innuendos about big men with big hands and "you know what that means", she refused to answer any more questions. The last two mums were highly offended when she replied that her private life was not up for discussion.

Anxious to hear more of her beloved nephew, Joan left a message on Louisa's mobile inviting her to supper Tuesday evening. Joan had enjoyed every minute he had spent with her, thrilled by the visit with her "little Marty". She had loved him as a child, but had felt the connection between them gradually wither after his visits stopped when he was twelve. She continued to write to him at school and through his first years at medical school, but his letters back had grown less and less frequent as the years passed. Now they shared a few telephone conversations at holidays each year; and whilst those conversations were warm and loving, they never went beyond the usual cursory greetings and holiday wishes; they never discussed their personal lives, never had a heart to heart. Her sister Ruth saw him very occasionally in London and kept track of his professional accomplishments; she shared with Joanie what little information she gleaned, forwarding news of his frequent presentations at medical conferences and articles he authored covering his latest research, but his personal life was still a closed book. All in all, she really did not know him well as a grown man and was hoping to discover more about him by talking with Louisa. She wanted to know what they had done, what he had talked about, how they had got on.

Louisa was more than happy to accept Joan's invitation, to have an excuse to escape the village and the constant questions. Martin was such a taciturn man; even after spending two evenings with him, she felt she knew very little about him. She considered him a new man in her life and wanted to find out all about him. Just as Joan wanted to hear what Louisa had learned of Martin, Louisa herself wanted to compare notes, as it were, with Joan. After sharing all they had discovered about him over the weekend, neither was satisfied; he was still a mystery to them.

Michael, the village GP, who had been away at a continuing education seminar, returned Monday evening and had been back less than an hour when one of his village mates met him at the pub and told him of Martin's visit. When he called Louisa Tuesday afternoon to invite her to dinner, he was disappointed when she told him she was busy. He was more than curious about Louisa's weekend guest by the time surgery closed Wednesday evening, and when he saw her light on, he decided to surprise her with an impromptu dinner. He knew that Martin Ellingham was Joan Norton's nephew, but what was his connection to Louisa? Was this Ellingham competition for Louisa's affections as implied by every villager who passed through his surgery consultation room door? He had called an old friend of his who was working as a GP in London and asked him if he knew Ellingham. Although his friend had never met him, he was familiar with Martin's work as a surgeon. He made a few inquiries and discovered that no one knew much about his private life. He was not married, seemed to be a loner. He had a reputation for being as arrogant as any other surgeon and a perfectionist, but also unpleasant, abrasive, and rude. Not the kind of person you'd care to share a meal with, but your first choice when you needed surgery.

He had stopped by the pub and picked up some fish and chips along with a bottle of Louisa's favourite wine. Not everyone was keen on wine with fish and chips, but Louisa wasn't everyone; while he was there, he picked up a few bottles of beer for himself. Even though she was a good cook, she wasn't in the habit of cooking during the week, grazing on leftovers or whatever she could find in the cupboard in the evening. He was certain she would welcome his visit as it came with dinner.

When she opened the door after he had knocked loudly, he gave her a quick kiss before bowing and presenting her with his bounty. "For mi-lady".

"Michael! What a surprise!" she exclaimed.

He set the bags on the entry table and then swept her into his arms to give her a proper kiss, then pulled away and grinned. "I missed you while I was gone."

She pulled back and giving him a wry grin, she rolled her eyes and shook her head as if to say "naughty boy". She twisted out of his embrace and turned to pick up his offerings. "I wasn't expecting you. But do come in…..I'm just finalising next term's budget for the governors' meeting this coming Monday, so I don't have too much time to visit, but a quick dinner would be lovely." As she walked back to the kitchen she shot him one of her brilliant smiles. Michael was ruggedly handsome and if Louisa were honest, she would admit her breath quickened each time she saw him. He was the epitome of a certain type of Irish American, even features with dark hair and searing blue eyes, and a fair complexion. At 35, his face was already weathering due to the years he spent on the water as a youth sailing around the bays and inlets of his native New England; it only enhanced his appeal.

"I brought you a bottle of wine. Would you like me to open it for you?" Michael lifted up the bottle for her inspection.

She quickly cleared off the table where she had been working and set it with two plates, flatware, and two glasses of water. "I would almost kill for a glass of wine, but maybe not tonight…got to keep a clear head for all this number crunching. Perhaps we can work on it together this weekend sometime….maybe Friday evening? We could cook up some pasta?"

"You could cook up some pasta. You know I'm hopeless in the kitchen."

"_Yes that's true, nothing like Martin_", thought Louisa and she gave him a slight smile.

Michael opened his bottle of beer and set it on the table. As they started to eat their dinner, Louisa asked, "How was your conference this weekend? Did you have any time for sightseeing? Liverpool can be such an interesting city."

"Oh, you know ... same old, same old. Managed to get in all the continuing ed credits I needed for the rest of the year, so that's all taken care of. Didn't really have time to do much sightseeing." He took a bite of fish, washed it down with a long draft of beer, and changed the subject. "So how was your weekend? I hear you had a visitor."

Louisa chuckled, "Yes, I'm sure you've heard all about it. Nothing stays quiet in this village for more than two minutes."

Michael had some trouble hiding the jealousy in his voice as he shared the village gossip, "I heard that you spent all Saturday afternoon and evening and then all Sunday evening with Joan's nephew. That he didn't leave your cottage until late Sunday night and was seen giving you a long kiss goodbye as he left."

"What? He did no such thing!" Louisa was astonished at the gossip that had surrounded Martin's visit. "Who made that up? We took a hike on the cliff path Saturday afternoon and then had supper at the pub. Then he came over Sunday evening and we cooked dinner together, completely platonic. Just a pleasant evening with two acquaintances getting to know each other better."

"How much better?"

"Really? Michael! You know me better than that. I met him when my friend Holly was in hospital when I was in London this summer and I promised to show him around Portwenn whenever he came down to visit his Aunt. Nothing more, nothing less." Annoyed as much with the village as with him, she snapped, "Perhaps you should take the rest of your fish and head on home now. I've got work to do."

"Come on Weesie. Don't be like that. I can't help but be a little jealous when every single villager over the age of twelve comes into my surgery telling me that this know-it-all tosser down from London has stolen my girl. How am I supposed to feel?"

"Don't call me 'Weesie'. You know I hate that. And I'm not 'your girl'."

"Yes you are; the entire village knows it. You're just being stubborn. You know how I feel, and I'm certain you feel the same way."

"Yes" she replied. "I know how you feel. And I am very fond of you, but I'm just not ready to be tied down. Maybe it's just that we are the only two singles our age here in the village. Maybe there wouldn't be anything between us if we lived somewhere else. I just don't know."

He was heartened by her admission that she was fond of him and knew it was just a matter of time before she realized that he was the man for her. 'Well, before you get any ideas about this Ellingham, let me tell you what he's like. I made some inquiries. I have a friend in London and he tells me that Ellingham is your basic arrogant surgeon. He has a reputation for being obnoxious and unpleasant, abrasive and rude. Just be careful, okay?"

"Okay".

"I just don't want you to get hurt," he added sincerely.

"Right." With that Louisa picked up her plate, binned the rest of her meal, and sent Michael on his way, giving him a quick peck on the cheek and promising to be more attentive on Friday.

After he left, she went back to her budget figures, but had difficulty concentrating. She did like Michael; he was fun-loving and attentive. He was always good for a laugh and he was a great dancer, definitely the life of any party. He was a good doctor. And a good kisser; she had to admit that she enjoyed their tender moments. But she didn't feel the chemistry that she wanted to feel from a lover. If she didn't sense that chemistry at the onset of a relationship, would it ever come, or would she become resentful when things got difficult? All marriages have their ups and downs, but what about those that didn't have their ups?

"Plenty of time to think that through," she told herself. "I must get back to this budget or I'll never get to sleep tonight." She pulled the papers back onto the table and started to work. Images of Martin floated through her mind, the expression on his face when he was staring at her and didn't think she was looking, so tender and full of longing. She just couldn't picture him being as obnoxious as Michael's friend implied….although he was rude to Moira at the football match. But he was so sweet the rest of the visit. She threw up her hands in defeat, "Aaack! This isn't helping. Maybe I should just open that bottle of wine and turn on the telly for a few minutes. Get these men out of my head."

And that's just what she did. Wine in hand, she curled up on the sofa, and clicked on the remote. Moments later, Lizzie was on Louisa's lap, purring like a finely tuned motor. "Where have you been all evening little miss?" She stroked Lizzie's fur, the cat purred, and the comedy on the telly made her laugh, and all thoughts of men … and sex … and marriage … and the distant ticking of her biological clock flew from her mind.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 **

"Morwenna…uh…Ms Newcross, would you change my train reservation from Paddington to Bodmin Parkway from the 14:06 to the 17:03 train? And call Ms Glasson at this number and tell her that I've been delayed and won't be able to meet with her this evening….Uhh…and tell her I hope to see her at my Aunt's farm to meet with the architect at 9am tomorrow." With that he handed Morwenna Louisa's number and sped off to theatre to take care of an emergency aortic aneurysm repair. If all went well, he should be able to arrive at Aunty Joan's farm by 10 or half ten at the latest.

Morwenna did as she was asked, changing his reservation and then calling Louisa. After she gave her the message, Louisa responded in a manner that completely took her by surprise by saying, "How disappointing; I was so looking forward to seeing Martin. I had planned a nice dinner. Do you know what has delayed him?"

She had not worked for Mr. Ellingham more than six months, but in all that time, no one had ever said they were looking forward to seeing him, annoyed to have to reschedule perhaps, but not planning a nice dinner for him. Perhaps this Ms Glasson wasn't the designer or decorator she had assumed. Well, she thought, his personal life really was none of her business; her grandfather had drummed that into her head before she started working for Mr. Ellingham. "I believe he is in theatre, emergency surgery. Can I tell him you will be able to meet him tomorrow morning then?"

"Yes, yes of course. Tell him I will be there. Thank you for calling."

After he had forwarded the studies on brain injuries in football players, she had sent him the recipe for the marinade she had used on the fish when he visited, and then a second recipe she thought he should try. They continued an occasional e-mail correspondence, and he had sent her some of the ideas he had for changes to the farm house and asked for her input. Aunty Joan would be reluctant to make any but the most essential practical changes, but he was thinking of ways to make it more of a family holiday home. He had enjoyed the time spent with Louisa in her home which seemed to him both tastefully furnished and welcoming, and he hoped that she might have some practical ideas for the renovation.

Martin had scheduled two architects and a highly regarded contractor to meet with him at Aunty Joan's place on the third weekend in November. He had planned to take the train down on Friday afternoon and had arranged to meet Louisa at her home for dinner before driving on to Aunty Joan's house. He had asked her if she would be free to meet with one or more of these consultants on Saturday or Sunday. She had responded in the affirmative and invited him for dinner when she found out he was arriving early on Friday.

A week before his trip, he received a call from Louisa asking if he would also be available on Saturday to have dinner with her and a few friends, just a quiet evening with four of her close friends from the village. He was reluctant because he was not comfortable around strangers, and he had stammered something about not wanting to intrude. She assured him that she would like to introduce him to her friends and that he would not intrude at all. In fact, she hoped he could help her with the preparation, and she promised to keep him busy with cutting, chopping and sautéing while he got more comfortable with the others. So he had agreed. He had wanted to spend as much time with her this weekend as possible, and wasn't sure how the evening with her friends would work out; but he consoled himself knowing they would have their own visit just the two of them Friday evening and he would have to be satisfied with that.

When his assistant called cancelling their Friday evening plans, Louisa was disappointed. She was beginning to think of him as more than just Joan's nephew, someone with whom she did seem to have some chemistry. Now with Friday evening cancelled and Saturday evening with others, there would be little time to see if there really was something there, not this trip at any rate. That was the problem, wasn't it, with a long distance relationship; there were always going to be conflicts. She really shouldn't get her hopes up. At least she would see him Saturday morning at Joan's when they were scheduled to meet with the architects and possibly Sunday morning as well; she was pleased that he felt comfortable asking her to join them, and she felt it would give her an opportunity to see another side of him. The portrait of Martin that Michael's friend had relayed was not flattering, and she wanted to see if he was as arrogant and rude as he had described.

They met with the first of the two architects, Geoffrey Trewin, in the morning; he had quite a few ideas that intrigued both Martin and Louisa. Joan was more sceptical, but having Louisa enthusiastic about the ideas helped her accept some of them. She prepared a light lunch which they were just able to finish before the second architect, Ron Jordan, arrived at half twelve. His approach was different from the first. Where Geoffrey proposed a more traditional Cornish farmhouse design for the main living area, Ron was keen to open things up with lots of glass and industrial appliances. By the time he left at three in the afternoon, Louisa had to make her good-byes in order to get her dinner party preparations in hand. She asked Martin to arrive at half five to help set out the starters and finish the main course.

Joan really could see no sense in making all the changes that they had discussed. Certainly she could see a need for updated fixtures in the bathroom and possibly in the kitchen, but the need to add another bathroom upstairs and one downstairs seemed extravagant to her. And why open up the lounge with more windows that would leak and run up the heating bill, even if Marty were willing to pay for it. It made no sense to her at all until Martin said, "I think it could make a nice family holiday home, if I ever had a family; and if not, it would be easier to let during the season if it were updated once you no longer have need of it."

Now she started to understand, and in her blunt way, replied, "You mean when I'm dead."

"Ummm" He lowered his eyes and looked away.

"Well we all have to go sometime, don't we Marty? And the farm will be yours once I do go, although I can't see you as a farmer."

She continued, "So is there something you have failed to tell me? Are you seeing someone; are you planning to marry soon? You need to bring her down here. It's not that Edith woman is it?"

"No, no. There's no one special yet, but I haven't ruled it out. And that Edith woman, as you call her, would be beyond childbearing age by now or soon."

Joan had been hoping that perhaps Martin had slotted Louisa into the potential wife position, and she made a point of watching the interaction between the two of them all morning. She had been happily surprised that he had involved her in the planning, and had wondered if he was wooing her. She noted as she observed them that they were friendly, but their behaviour towards each other seemed more like professional colleagues than potential lovers, debating the finer points of kitchen design and traffic flow in the main living area of the house. She did notice each observing the other during the day. Martin would let his gaze linger a bit too long when Louisa would offer an opinion; and on occasion, Louisa seemed especially interested in Martin's interactions with the architects, almost as if she were assigned the task of completing an evaluation form. It was odd, but then things with Martin were never straightforward or easy; she remembered that from his childhood. She decided to forgo tact and asked him straight-out. "What about Louisa?"

He had picked up some of the paperwork the first architect had left and was examining it, "What? What about Louisa?"

"Is she someone special?"

He raised his head and started to bluster, "She ... she..." He paused and then added in a more normal voice, "I don't know."

"_Fair enough_" she thought as she looked down and placed her finger against her nose replying with a simple, "Ahh..."

"Emmm….There's something else I'd like to discuss, now that you've brought up the matter of inheritance. I've taken a look at the title you sent me and see that Dad's name is still on it from the time Uncle Dick's will conveyed the property to you both. That could prove a complication when you do go."

Martin had discussed the legal issues with respect to her ownership of the property with her shortly after he had met with his solicitor and asked her to send him copies of the deed and any outstanding mortgage documents. She assured him there were no mortgage documents to be had, a sure way to lose the farm, borrowing on future crops. She and Phil had learned from Uncle Dick to set aside profits in the good years to help ride out the bad ones and had never taken out a loan. Some of their neighbours thought they were foolish not to invest in shiny new equipment or other fancy improvements, but they managed to make do and come out smiling. She was quite proud to have kept the farm intact when so many of her friends had lost theirs or had to sell out to developers.

"Ordinarily, the law of adverse possession would work in your favour since you have worked the land for more than the twelve years required and Dad hasn't set foot on it since he came down here to take me home the last time I stayed as a child. But since you share possession on the title, it could be a problem. I will get my solicitor to give us an opinion on the matter. I'd like for you to have clear possession before I invest too much in the house. Don't want Dad, or more likely Mum after Dad dies, to see the improvements and demand we sell so they can get their hands on the cash."

"He's never expressed an interest in the farm before; told me it was small potatoes, not worth his time, that Phil and I could have it. Why would he be interested in it now?"

"You are aware that property values in Cornwall have increased substantially in the past several years? He and Mum live an extravagant lifestyle. One bad investment and they would be looking for any source of cash they could find. Even without improvements to the house, the property is worth maybe five or six hundred thousand. If we improve the house, it would be worth well more than that. Best to clear up the title before we start renovations…..except of course the boiler. How you have managed without reliable hot water is beyond me. Have you contacted any plumbers to see to that yet?"

Aunty Joan had contacted several firms specializing in plumbing and heating systems, had taken their brochures and had gagged at the prices they were quoting her. But she handed them over to Martin nonetheless. "Here you go. As you are paying for it, I will let you decide which model and company should do the work. Martin took a quick look at the information Joan handed him, and realizing that he needed to leave for Louisa's in less than an hour, put them aside in his bag.

.


End file.
